


Sex, Drugs, and Oblivion

by Maimat, Miah_Arthur



Series: Gates of Hell [5]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angst, Drug Addiction, Drug Withdrawal, F/M, Hallucinations, Hell, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Manipulation, Mind Rape, Multi, Sexual Content, Whump, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:42:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 21
Words: 56,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22795741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maimat/pseuds/Maimat, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miah_Arthur/pseuds/Miah_Arthur
Summary: Adrift in guilt and self-destructive coping mechanisms, Lucifer discovers a talent for fulfilling sexual desires that the Lilim eagerly exploit in exchange for money, drugs, and perhaps his soul.
Relationships: Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)/Original Character(s), Mazikeen & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Series: Gates of Hell [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1514090
Comments: 173
Kudos: 185





	1. Tribute

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to our betas: Hircine_Taoist, Snuffles, and Fleem
> 
> Trigger warning for intrusive thoughts.

****

# Sex, Drugs, and Oblivion

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****

## Chapter 1

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****

### Tribute

****

The wind pounded the door flap as the howling torrents raced between domes outside. They should both be sleeping, but Lucifer couldn’t settle. 

Everything was the same and yet different now that he understood what this place was doing to him. He hadn’t successfully left the ground since his brief experience before calming the storm. The returned strength he’d felt, that he’d reveled in, was gone. This place drew on his power, and he couldn’t un-feel it. Every waking moment—he was aware of the creeping sensation of his essence being drained. Used. Manipulated. 

And then there was Maze. 

She sat by the hearth working on carving intricate patterns into a bone handle and she hadn’t looked his way at all. The tension in the air felt stifling. 

“Sit with me.” It was the first she’d spoken to him since she returned to the dome late in the ashfall.  
Her expression said this wasn’t a fun invitation into her space. He sat, back straight, fortifying himself against whatever bad news was to come. 

Instead, she untied her talisman pouch from her belt and held it reverently in her hands. 

Elaborate workmanship decorated the hide, metal beads were woven into the detailed stitching picking out the shape of a fearsome set of fangs. 

“On my next hunt, I will make you a pouch like this to store your trophies in.” She untied the knot at the top and shook the contents onto the floor before them. It wasn’t the first time she’d shown him the contents. There were small bones, teeth, a curl of tied hair, a glittering scale, and things Lucifer didn’t know how to categorize.

“I heard about your exploits with Fraq and the others, when she stole the pouch off the gatherers the ashfall of the festival. It was a valuable take for a whelp like her, but you should know what it means. For a Lilim, our talisman or trophy pouches are more than just a mere possession.” She poked at the assortment and picked one. A fang, black with age. “They contain our legacies. This is the oldest talisman I have. The beast it belonged to was loyal and hunted at my side for many years.”

“What kind of beast?” 

“A warg. A creature of the sulfur planes, bigger than a Lilim, and walking on four legs. They can tear their prey apart with one snap of their powerful jaws.” 

“I thought Lilim didn’t consort with beasts.” Bitterness coated his words, thinking how often the Lilim attributed that word, _beast_ , to him.

“She wasn’t like the others of her kind,” was all Maze answered. 

“What happened to her?” 

“She died.” She scooped up her treasures and dropped them back into her pouch. 

Why was she telling him this story? What significance did it hold?

“Lucifer, Anilith has summoned me to the Spire.”

The dread settled leaden in his stomach. “For what?” 

“I don’t have a choice, Lucifer. Anilith is calling for tribute. Every vowed warrior must pay.” Her eyes were intense as she stared at him, as if beseeching him to understand. “I am vowed to her. I can not refuse. She has demanded that you appear with me.”

Lucifer rolled his shoulders and banished his wings. “No! Maze. You said—you said—” He stopped and concentrated. As fluent as he now was in Lilim, her language was still foreign on his tongue, especially in moments like these. If only Maze understood Enochian, he could express himself with the ease and elegance he was used to. Lucifer cleared his throat and focused on the guttural tones of the Lilim. “Am I to be your tribute? Are you planning on putting a piece of _me_ in that pouch with your warg fang? I won’t go back to being Anilith’s captive, Maze.” 

“You won’t. I won’t let that happen. My Talisman Pouch is to be her tribute. It is my most valuable possession.”

“What does she want with me?” Memories assailed him of being tied with that foul cord. Starving, thirsty. That Lilim in the spire...circling him as he was bound and weak, unable to struggle, his wings stretched, the metal tongs they used to— 

“Lucifer!” Maze’s voice sounded distant, but it cut through the memories, led him back to her dome. “Anilith can’t touch you, can’t order you to be touched, can’t order me to take anything from you. You need to trust me.”

“You know I do.” How could she doubt that? “But she can order you to bring me to her.” The chill settled deeper into his bones. He forced himself to sit up straight, copying Maze’s pose, even as his joints throbbed with remembered pain. 

“She wants to see you.” 

“Inspect me, you mean. Like a beast on display,” 

“Yes. She will try to provoke you into responding. She will try to provoke us into making a mistake, but we won’t.” Maze patted the mat beside her. “Sleep. We will both need to be sharp.”

He lay down at her side, but sleep was impossible. Maze rolled towards him and placed a hand on his chest. Her touch didn’t comfort him the way he knew she intended it to. She was worried; the tension in her body was hard to ignore. 

He wished for an extra-long wind cycle. Sometimes the cycles of ashfalls and winds were not consistent. Candles were much better at measuring time. How often did Maze growl impatiently, trapped inside until the air stilled enough to venture outside safely? 

Luck was not on his side. If anything, the wind calmed early. Lucifer rose and tended to the hearth, setting a pot of water to boil and making porridge. He chose scalding ooze fungus. It was one of the sweeter tasting fungi for porridge. It was the first food he'd ever tasted in this realm, and he was still fond of it.  
Mazikeen didn’t complain when he handed her the bowl. He knew the mixture wasn’t popular among the Lilim, but he couldn’t fathom why. 

“It’s time to get ready.” 

Lucifer stood and reached for the shoulder drape wrap, but Maze stilled his hand. “Today is formal.” She reached instead for his new tunic and thicker leggings, spending extra time to make sure everything was placed as it should be. It was. 

The rest of the time before they left, they practiced the formal protocol expected in the Spire. Lucifer tolerated it, knowing it was better to be prepared. But he despised the idea of being judged and put on display like a trophy animal. 

“Head down,” Mazikeen instructed, and lightly tapped the back of his head. He tilted forward, staring at the ground. “Don’t look anyone in the eye. Especially Anilith. Don’t talk.”

“I know,” he grumbled. Did she think he didn’t remember? That he could forget their hatred of his speech? At least he had a semblance of his true form back now.

If only he could discard the hides Maze kept insisting he cover himself with and stand confident in his own skin. As fancy as the tunic and leggings were, nothing came close to the impressiveness of his angelic form.

They left the security of Maze’s dome. Lucifer clenched his jaw against the humiliation to come. He stayed a pace behind Maze, his eyes lowered, mouth pressed tightly closed. He hid his wings away. The visceral revulsion at the thought of anyone in the Spire examining them was so strong he feared he might not be able to unfurl them when necessary. 

The spire loomed over the collective. Its presence was sinister on a good day, but today it was the maw of a malevolent beast ready to devour him. Maze’s instructions chased through his mind, looping and repeating: He was to be silent. He was not to raise his eyes from the floor. He was to stand and show his wings and keep still and not let his fists clench or his wings flay them for daring to disrespect him.

Maze, his proud and mighty Maze, demurely asked the guard to show them to the Soverain’s audience chamber, and Lucifer’s hands itched to curl into fists. She walked with her limbs loose and her eyes down. He knew he was the cause. Though Maze had never stated it directly, she had traded her freedom for his salvation from that chamber. The Soverain owned her because she saved him. The enormity of it threatened to swallow his soul. Maze stopped, and lost in his thoughts as he was, he bumped into her.

The reaction was swift and unexpected. Maze grabbed the front of his tunic and shoved him up against the wall. She pressed her face close to his and growled, but her voice was soft. “Pay attention. We can do this.”

She released him with a shake and he bowed his head, eyes fixed on the floor, the very image of a cowed prisoner. A Lilim ordered them into the Soverain’s chamber. He’d been there before. The memory of it haunted his nightmares. 

His back itched at the memory; his hidden wings ached from it. This was the last room he had seen before being imprisoned underground into the dark... 

_They’d dragged him in, bound and gagged. The flesh of his wings was raw from the constant extraction of the sensitive, developing, quills. He hadn’t understood why. Only a few words had stood out to him in the rapid exchanges between the Lilim guards. He understood the word "feather." They talked and talked of feathers, and yet every time they started to regrow…_

Maze grabbed his sleeve and tugged him forward, reconnecting him to the present. 

Anilith sat on her raised throne, her presence dominating his attention despite not being allowed to look upon her. 

His skin prickled when Anilith spoke, her voice grating on his nerves like screeching metal. 

This time he understood every word the Soverain said. “Mazikeen, my warrior, you have come to pay your tribute?” 

He was vaguely aware of Maze bowing. She untied the talisman pouch from her belt. “My personal tokens, my Soverain.”

A sharp breath behind them alerted Lucifer to the presence of another Lilim. He let his eyes dart to the side, stealing a glance without moving his head. Traz. He remembered her. _Remembered the gleam in her eye as she’d…_ She swaggered up to Maze and took the pouch to Anilith, her footsteps echoing through the chamber.

A tense silence followed. Both he and Maze remained frozen.

The silence made the sudden torrent of sound worse. “Insult!” Anilith shouted. She threw the precious bag to the floor, landing at Maze’s feet. “You dare taunt me with this paltry offering?” 

There was no response from Maze, but Anilith was on her feet. Lucifer raised his head enough to see her decorated sandals descend the stairs from the raised platform. Precious stones under her soles clicked against the stone floor as she circled them. 

“I expected more from a true daughter of Lilith,” Anilith drawled. There was no disappointment in her tone, only glee. “So, this is what our living-angel has become.” 

Her scrutiny shifting onto him made his skin crawl. 

“The wings. Where do they go? I’ve seen their size, they do not fit into its back, do they?” 

“I do not understand the workings of magic and divinity,” Maze said. Her voice held none of her usual fire.

Anilith made a contemptuous noise. “Bring them out.” 

He waited for Maze’s signal, knowing it was important to show he listened to Mazikeen, not to the Soverain. 

“Do it.”

Lucifer took a breath. He rolled his shoulders. The wings emerged with a violent gust of displaced air and he snapped them open to full extension. The impossible to clean ash trapped between his feathers dusted the air. 

He couldn’t help the grin of defiance from turning his lips as the Soverain stifled a cough. This wasn’t like before. Those other times, he’d stood before Anilith, plucked raw, skin ruined and burned. But that was not who he was now. He had his divinity again; his wings were restored to their former splendor. Maze was mistaken. He should not be acting like a tamed beast, he needed to show Anilith exactly what kind of angel she was dealing with.

He would not cower—

“You know the penalty for a vowed warrior who does not offer a proper tribute,” Anilith purred to Maze.

_Penalty?_

Lucifer’s head snapped up. Anilith stood in front of Maze, a false smile pulling at her lips. A tall, elegant Lilim, Anilith highlighted her ebony skin with vivid red and yellow streaked above her eyes and painted onto her lips. She wore wide brilliantly colored rings around her neck, hanging down, combining with the gauzy white garment she wore to accentuate her bosom. Horns, painted gold and decorated with precious stones rose from the center of her head and swept backwards. Her eyes flicked over to Lucifer. The danger here wasn’t to himself; it was to Maze. He ducked his head, but not before Anilith’s smile turned genuine, reaching her eyes. 

“Mazikeen, control your beast,” Anilith purred.

Anilith walked a slow circle around him. He flexed his wings in, folding them against his back.  
“Order the beast to keep its wings spread. It’s easier to count the feathers this way.” 

“Keep them spread,” Maze echoed, her tone flat. 

He did. The strength he’d felt before the storm was all but gone, the brief moment of confidence and wanting to show Anilith all he was turned back to dread. 

Anilith walked around him slowly, taking her time. 

He hadn’t yet built up the strength to hold his wings up in extension like this for prolonged periods of time. 

“These big ones carry the most divinity. I can sense it. Ten on each side.” Anilith didn’t touch, but she didn’t have to. He felt her gaze felt like a physical sensation crawling over and through him. 

His shoulders and back ached fiercely from the unnatural posture. 

“How do you propose to assuage your lack of tribute to me, Mazikeen?”

“I will find a fitting beast to slaughter and return with appropriate trophies.” 

“Not good enough. You know what I want.” Her gaze remained fixed on his feathers. The large primaries she had counted.

Lucifer’s muscles shook from exertion. Never had he felt the land’s draw on his essence as strongly as now, as though magnified by Anilith’s presence. He strained to keep his limbs stretched out. Anilith stared at him. What was she seeing? 

_Anilith had stood over him while he’d been bound, her handler pulling on his wing, inspecting the new growth, leaning in with pincers to grasp and extract—_

The memory sent a shock of real pain licking through his back. Lucifer’s right wing gave way, falling limp to the floor, and he stumbled down to one knee before regaining his balance and footing. He straightened his back and forced them into full extension again.

Anilith’s laugh sent fresh waves of pain alighting along each nerve. “I thought you were a beast trainer, Mazikeen? _Your_ living-angel isn’t very obedient, is it? Hardly worth all this fuss. We could perhaps forgo tribute...if you returned the beast.”

Involuntary shivers ran through his wings, rustling his feathers. He trusted Maze. But her greatest treasures, her _honor_ , lay rejected on the floor. What else did she have to give, but him?

Maze’s voice was hard. “The angel is not to be touched. Take it out of my flesh, if you must,” she said and removed her tunic. 

Lucifer reached for her, but she slapped his hand away, and marched to the chains at the end of the room. Across the chamber, Traz picked up a whip. She sauntered toward Maze, a flick of her wrist and the end of the whip cracked the air. Memories of those chains, those sounds, threatened to overwhelm him.

He couldn’t let them do this. Not if it was in his power to stop it. He flexed his wing forward and grabbed one of the large primaries with his opposite hand and yanked. His breath caught at the searing pain shooting from the plume he gripped, heard it tear as it came free. Blood coated the end of the quill and dripped to the floor from the damaged follicle.

He lowered himself to his knees, his head bowed, the feather laid across his outstretched palms. He held it out, offering. _Let this be enough, don’t hurt Maze._ Anilith’s attention made his skin crawl, but she didn’t react. Traz cracked the whip again, this time near Maze’s head. In desperation, Lucifer spoke, “Your tribute. Take it.” 

Traz placed the whip on the ground and hurried up to him. She gingerly took the feather he offered into her hand and brought it to Anilith. Anilith accepted the gift, running her fingers along the soft barbs.  
“I can see you need a better way to demonstrate your service to me, Mazikeen. You will join my guard at the wall. I’m sure my guards will be eager to learn from a true warrior like you.” She strolled toward the door, calling back to Traz. “Ten lashes for not controlling her beast. Add an extra ten if it dares speak or move without her command.” 

“Yes, Soverain,” Traz replied. 

Lucifer swayed in place, not daring to move. Maze would protest. This wouldn’t happen. It couldn’t. He gave Anilith the feather!

But Maze gripped the chains dangling from the wall, arms up and spread out. 

He wanted to look away, close his eyes, scream. Anything. But he watched. Every time Traz snapped the whip across Maze’s back, he flinched. He deserved to have the image of his failure burned into his mind. 

He didn’t turn away.

Maze made no sound. Blood trickled down her back, but she remained steadfast and silent. After the tenth lash she retrieved her tunic, pulled it on and walked over to Lucifer, her head high. 

“Follow me.” 

He did. But he snatched her talisman bag from the floor as he stood and hid it in the folds of his clothes. She walked straight to her dome, with no outward sign of discomfort. But he knew her. He saw the stiffness in her step, the shallowness of her breath. Remembered pain ghosted across his own back. He knew exactly how those chains felt. They didn’t speak. He knew of no words in the Lilim language that could translate what he wanted to say. 

Back in the dome, Maze pulled off her tunic and sighed. 

“Maze—” 

“We aren’t talking about this.” She said and passed him the jar of healing salve.  


And he tended to her and did not speak of it.


	2. The Wall

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# Chapter 2 The Wall

****

Lucifer's wings wanted to burst forth, to unfurl, and carry him away from here. He pressed the basket he carried tightly to his chest and concentrated on keeping his wings contained. Even away, Lucifer imagined he could feel the pain of the ripped away primary. Maze marched ahead of him also carrying a basket and wearing a heavy pack. It was everything they were taking with them from Maze's dome. 

Following Anilith’s orders, Maze had been assigned to join the guard at the Collective’s wall. It was not a coveted position. The wall guard were all vowed warriors: Lilim captured in border disputes and wars. They were cowards who surrendered in battle and got taken prisoner. That Maze should join their rank was a major insult. She didn't rage and rant. She didn't complain. He wished she would. At least she'd be speaking then.

Maze had packed in silence. Efficiently. She took her tools and crafting supplies in the basket she carried. Her personal items: dishes, clothing, bedding, and small items of value, she carried in her pack. She wore her armor and her weapons. 

Lucifer's basket held his clothing, the eye kohl Maze had bought for him at the market, their food—mostly his since he still couldn't stomach the dead flesh that the guards would no doubt be provided. His mind recoiled at the thought of the disturbing food the Lilim ate, but Maze never insisted he try it, and he never suggested she should abstain. 

His pack was smaller. He had no armor or weapons, no tools of his own or extra personal items like Maze seemed to have. He had far fewer clothes and no items of value. The empty places in his pack were filled with cleaning supplies. The disparity in the value of what they carried wasn't lost on him. Of course she wouldn't trust him with anything important after he failed her so spectacularly in the Spire. 

_Pack the food you like, as much as you can carry. They don't serve_ spawn _food to guards, so you better make it last._ He still didn't know the meaning of the word spawn, but he knew from its spoken tone that it was disgraceful to eat like one. He'd heard it plenty in the Spire. Maze had never spat the word at him before. 

The one thing of value he carried, didn't belong to him. Maze's trophy pouch was tucked securely inside his clothes, next to his skin. Anilith had rejected it, insulted it. He'd been so proud of himself when he retrieved it from the floor. Until Maze had reached for it as she was dressing, only to remember she didn’t have it. She’d shaken her head and muttered, "All will know that I presented my pouch when Anilith puts her tributes on display. Let her dare claim I presented nothing of value."

He gulped.

Maze shouldn’t have been punished for his mistake. 

He wanted to give it back to her, to explain his blunder, but she said they needed to pack; there wasn’t time to talk. So Lucifer waited. They’d barely spoken to each other at all since the Spire. Waiting only made it harder to tell her what he’d done. 

He couldn't show her the pouch now. 

Lucifer's back ached with the effort of restraining his wings. Maze stomped ahead of him. She hadn't looked back since she turned away from her dome and said, "Follow me."

It was a long walk across the Collective to reach the portion of the wall she was assigned to. Maze veered off to the left and the Spire began to recede. Lucifer breathed a little easier. 

They finally drew near the massive wall. Maze marched up the steps, and Lucifer followed. She hadn't told him any details about where they were going or what would be expected of him—had barely spoken to him at all since before they entered the spire. He directed his gaze to the ground and resolved to keep his tongue silent. He didn't know the protocol they'd be forced to live under now, but the safest course would be following her last instructions. Maze stopped outside the guard house door.

"Keep your head down. We don’t know what we’re walking into."

He nodded. Spire rules then. Most Lilim preferred it when he didn't counteract their assumptions and let them believe they were better than him. 

She pushed through the door flap and Lucifer followed. Voices rose in consternation at his entrance. 

"No beasts allowed in the barracks!" and "That _thing_ can't be in here!" came through the loudest, but "monster" and "abomination" reached his ears, along with hissing, growling, and cursing. He took a step forward, his wings straining to unfurl. He could defend himself—no. The last time he’d intervened had been a disaster. He resolutely kept his eyes on the floor and stepped back in place behind Maze. 

In response, she turned and grabbed Lucifer’s arm, bringing him back outside. She put down her basket, shucked off her pack, and pulled her blades and set them down with a clatter on the basket. "Wait here."

"I can—"

She snarled without looking at him, and said, "Do not interfere."

She shouldered through the door flap with a blood curdling whoop, and pandemonium broke out inside. Lucifer itched to rush in, to help, but the weight of the talisman pouch against his stomach stopped him. Maze was better off without his help. The sounds of fighting tapered off and Maze's voice rose above the clamor, too muffled for him to understand the words, but her tone was pure venom. 

The door cover swept open and Maze retrieved her things. "Hurry up."

Lucifer didn't respond. She didn't want him to speak, and she had already gone inside, so he followed. The atmosphere writhed with tension. Anger, fear, and malice jostled at him as he followed Maze to an empty section of the large dome. Along the walls, niches were built in, two at a time, one stacked above the other, and with enough room for the average Lilim to lay flat and sit up. A small space in front of it was partitioned off by hanging furs. Maze sat her things in the corner of the space and he set his on the other side. 

"Sweep out the bunks. Use the top one for storage." She again didn't wait for his response, just turned and walked out of the alcove.

Lucifer bristled at the order, but he swallowed the retort. There was no privacy here. Maze had enough to contend with. He didn’t want to add to her problems any more than he already had. 

There wasn't much ash in the niches, but he swept it into his pan and set it aside. The Lilim moved around outside the alcove with low growls and snarls. Maze's voice wasn't among them. Busy. That's what he needed to be, so he unpacked their things, placing them into the top alcove. The dishes and cookware occupied one end, the clothing the middle, and cleaning and medicinal supplies the other. He set their rug into the middle space. 

No one could see the talisman pouch, especially Maze. Not now. Neither of them liked purple jelly fungus, but he’d been sure to pack the jar for exactly this purpose. He tucked the pouch into the small jar and hid it at the bottom of his basket. She'd never look there.

He took the bedding from the basket and approached the niche. The dim light of the room left the depth of the space in shadows. He swallowed. It hadn't looked so foreboding when he was only cleaning it, but now… It seemed to grow deeper and darker. _Bound. In the dark._ He took a step back. He'd rather sleep in the wind driven ash outside than willingly go into that hole. 

Maze had pulled him from the fiery lake. She'd freed him from his Father's eternal torture. She’d traded her freedom for him. He'd repaid her with defiance and brought her shame. 

From outside the partition Maze said, "Get your cloak and follow me, Lucifer."

He stepped out and stilled. Maze wore a grey round helmet and a shapeless grey cloak obscured her armor. She turned on her heel and marched out of the barracks dome. He trailed after. She led him far out onto the wall. Small domes made of only columns and round roofs studded the top. Crude stone benches had been built along the walls, and bored Lilim wearing the same gray, shapeless uniforms sat staring out at the wastelands. The Lilim glared and growled as they passed. 

The shelter Maze stopped at had no bench. Maze widened her stance and relaxed into waiting. Lucifer stood beside her. They could talk now. He opened his mouth, but no sound emerged. Several times he began, and stopped. The sound the lash made as it struck her back tainted every conversation he could think of. There had to be something— 

"Go sit on the other side."

His spirits dropped. Maze was right. There was nothing he could say to make things right. Why try? He trudged away from her and plopped down. He should have known better. Seen and not heard. He could do this. He sighed and looked out over the ledge down to the lanes below. His Father had given him plenty of practice in doing nothing. 

Shouting in the lane drew his attention to a small and stout but very angry sounding beast trying to bite a Lilim’s leg. The chaos and energy of the collective drew him in. Watching the Lilim was better than the nothing Maze had to stare at. The wind here on the wall tugged at his clothes even while in the lanes the air remained calm. He tried not to cough at the ash the wind stirred up.

After three knuckles of ash, a slender guard wearing the same grey cloak as everyone else, but no helmet, trotted up to them. He carried a pail with two bundles of cooked flesh, and a jar of water in a sling on his back. Lucifer's stomach grumbled. 

The Lilim offered him a bundle. No way was he eating that. “None for me.” 

Maze speared him with her gaze, but the whelp wasted no time, tearing at Lucifer's portion of the flesh like he hadn't eaten in days. Lucifer turned back to the city below. He would fill a jar with porridge before they came back the next ashfall. The slender one left, a spring in his step as he headed back toward the distant stairs. Lucifer's stomach grumbled and he picked at his clothes irritably. This shelter kept the worst of the ash off, but he was still coated in it, and he was hungry. 

The winds blew harder stirring the ash in earnest, and Lucifer stood, shaking what he could from his clothes and hair. He waited for Maze to move, but she stood still as a statue until the winds tugged at their clothes, and they had to pull their scarves up to breathe. It was too late. Lucifer coughed against the accumulated ash in his throat and drawing air in was difficult. She set out at a jog at last, and Lucifer followed. 

The ash choked his breath, obscured his vision, weakened his knees, but Maze remained as steady as she'd been all day. She opened the door and Lucifer stumbled through it, coughing. With an exasperated snort, she grabbed his elbow and dragged him to their alcove. He coughed a few times before catching his breath. Maze handed him a flask of water and he drank.

_"Mazikeen's beast is weak."_ A voice from outside their alcove jeered.

Maze's face drew into a scowl, but she tugged on his scarf, still hanging around his neck. "I've shown you how to tie this, Lucifer. A loose scarf is worthless."

_"Mazikeen the warrior? More like Mazikeen the sprog-minder!"_

Howls of laughter rang out, and Maze stalked out of the alcove. The laughter cut off, and footsteps retreated toward the other alcoves. Lucifer pulled aside the hide, but Maze was the only Lilim left in the communal area. She took her ashy helmet and cloak off and hung them on a peg by the wall. Lucifer copied her, hanging his cloak and hood on the peg next to hers. 

"Eat something, Lucifer."

The low burning fire of the hearth in the communal area held enough heat to make porridge, and Lucifer filled his belly, glad to be done with the gnawing hunger. The other Lilim crept out of their alcoves as Lucifer and Maze lounged near the warm fire pit. Narrow-eyed looks were tossed his way, but there were no more comments about beasts. All the same, it was a relief when Maze nodded at him to follow her into their alcove. 

The relief was short lived as the yawning maw of the niche reached for him. "Lucifer." Maze's sharp tone called him back. She had removed her armor, but retained her softer leggings. She held the jar of salve out to him. He took it and treated the lash marks. Two of them had opened and bled.

Maze remained silent through the ministrations, and when he finished she pulled her tunic back on.

“Maze—”

She grabbed his arm and shoved him back. Lucifer didn’t resist. Was this it then? Would she deliver him back to Anilith? He wouldn’t fight her. It was what he deserved. He didn’t belong here any more than he belonged anywhere. They could throw him back in the dungeon, lock him in the dark, take whatever they wanted. As much as the thought terrified him, it would still be better than being used as an excuse to hurt Maze. 

“You’re to stay by my side at all times. Go nowhere alone.” She spoke in a very low voice, even right in front of her he needed to strain to understand. 

The words drew him out of his dark thoughts, confusing as they were in contrast to his expectations. 

“You’re under my protection.” She patted his shoulder briefly. “We can do this, Lucifer. You’ve done well so far. Keep your head down and stay quiet until I get a better sense of the layout. I’ll figure something out, I swear.” 

He nodded again, still not daring to speak. 

She reached into the upper bunk to pull out a bag from her crafting tools. “I picked this up a while back and meant to give it to you.” She held out a small bag of thistles. 

He took the bag from her hand and stared at it, his emotions at war within him. He ate one, and she smiled at him for the first time since the Spire. “We should get some rest, it’s been a long ashfall and my next wall shift begins as soon as the winds slow.” 

Lucifer looked back at the alcove. She hadn’t given up on him. Not yet. The bunk was made for one, but they’d shared sleeping rolls many times. This was no different. He tugged off his clothes, folded them up and shimmied in, far enough for his back to press against the wall, and Maze crawled in after. Her bare skin pressed up against his.

“We’re living on rations, now. It will be better to conserve what we have,” Maze warned before blowing out the candle. 

The farting and belching coming from the alcoves around them as the other Lilim also lay down to sleep helped ground him, remind him that this was far from the dungeon and the darkness he’d been trapped in before. The sound of snoring Lilim soon filled the air. Maze was silent, Lucifer rested his arm over her side. They lay facing each other, and he curled against her, his mouth close to her ear. 

He tried to think in Lilim as much as possible, to forget that he’d ever known a language before Lilim, but there were times nothing else could suffice to express what he felt inside. 

He sang the words in a whisper, the familiar lilt of Enochian ran off his tongue, it felt like cool fresh water to his throat and his thoughts. It flowed out of him as eloquently as it ever had in the Silver City. 

“Shh, go to sleep, Lucifer,” Maze whispered, and placed her hand over his mouth. 

And he couldn’t help but grin. He’d said what he needed to. Feeling lighter already, he licked Maze’s palm to get her to move her hand away. She made a disgusted noise and let go of his mouth, but rather than withdraw, she squirmed closer, her breath was warm against his throat, and he wanted to be closer to her. 

“No, shush,” he whispered back, and made her laugh out loud. 

And, by the way she responded to him, she wanted to be closer as well. Facing each other they pressed together, her arm wrapping around him, drawing him in, surrounding him. Afterward, he rolled onto his back, Maze laying on her stomach, her arm over his chest and her leg over his hips, and he was content to have her weight over him. The confined space slipped away, replaced by Maze’s skin, and together, no matter the circumstances, things felt alright.


	3. A New Dome

****

# Chapter 3 A New Dome

****

Everything was different here at the Wall. 

She didn’t dare let Lucifer out of her sight. He’d been different since their meeting with Anilith at the Spire. She’d known taking him back there was a mistake. But of course, no one cared what she thought. 

The incident broke Lucifer’s trust in her. The way he shut down, refused to even look her in the eye anymore, let her know she’d failed him. All she could do now was carry on. She had her duty to Anilith, and she would honor it, but her duty to Lucifer came first. 

He groaned in his sleep and she rolled toward him. She placed a hand on his chest, and it temporarily calmed him. The small bunk wasn’t made for two, but it worked. They’d already had the habit of sleeping side by side, and she didn't want him unprotected at night. But there seemed to be something wrong inside him that manifested when they slept. He twitched and moaned, and she could see his eyes moving beneath his lids, as though they could see something that wasn’t there. This wasn’t the first time he’d behaved strangely while at rest, but this was worse than it had been before.

Maze grasped his hand and squeezed as he began making distressed noises. If she knew what was causing him pain, she would fix it. Lucifer’s entire body twitched, and she tapped his cheek. “Lucifer.” 

He didn’t respond. Not to her at least. Whatever tormented him continued on, and he writhed in pain, crying out. She pressed her hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. He flailed at her, body twisting, but she held fast. He drew in a deep shuddering breath and stopped struggling. She slid out of the alcove, dragging him along with her. 

Was there a spider in the bunk? A beetle? He moved sluggishly, barely keeping himself from falling on the floor. Maze left him standing, groggily swaying on his feet as she searched the space. There was nothing. She grabbed his arm and turned him around, inspecting his skin for bite marks. 

Nothing. “Are you injured?” she asked, and then shook him when he was too slow to answer. 

“No, no I’m fine. Just tired. What are you doing?” 

“You were in pain, I don’t know why,” she said and pushed him to sit down. “Were you attacked by something? Are you ill?” 

“What? No. I woke you? I was…” he trailed off with a look that usually meant he was searching for a word. 

“You were what?” 

He frowned. “What do you call it, when you see things when you sleep?” 

Maze shook her head. “When you sleep you sleep, you aren’t thinking.” 

“You don’t…go away?” 

“Where did you go?” 

“The Spire. Under it. I felt trapped-“

Maze grabbed his wrist. “Is Anilith using magic on you?” 

“No, Maze.” He pulled away and frowned, his gaze missing her in the dark. “I went there in my sleep.” 

She eyed him warily. Was it his power to roam with his mind?

“It wasn’t real, Maze.” He let out a long sigh. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” He patted until he found the edge of the bunk and shuddered, but climbed back in. 

Maze lay down beside him, intent and watchful. They were both awake for a long time, though neither spoke. Lucifer scrunched as far as he was able to against the wall to avoid touching her, and she silently fumed. Why did he have to be so infuriating? She eventually felt him fall back asleep, and there were no more disturbances. 

A routine set in. Maze woke at the sound of the bell that rang when the winds slowed. She joined the rest of the guard for a breakfast of meat over the fire. Lucifer began the habit of staying in their small alcove while the rest of the guards were gathered in the common area. It did no good for him to hide away and Mazikeen longed to drag him out with the others. 

But Lucifer was different here. He was quiet and kept his head down. That kind of attitude would never help him integrate with the guards. 

Mazikeen scraped every last bit of meat off the bone and then cracked it in half, and used it to pick at her teeth. When the meat was finished, the pot of water she'd set at the edge of the fire for Lucifer’s porridge had come to a boil. She'd been bringing the hot water to him, since he refused to come to the fire, but the powder needed to cook thoroughly to be digestible. He hadn't protested, but she caught him holding his stomach when he thought she wouldn't notice. She frowned; there wasn’t much fungus in the bowl he’d passed to her. Was he rationing his food? He'd been reluctant to hand the bowl over to her, only relenting when she snapped an order at him. 

The guard's rations included enough of the poorest quality meat to live on, though not happily, and only a small portion of fungus for seasoning. No rations had been sent for Lucifer. She mentally kicked herself. They'd been here hands of ashfalls. Of course he was running low. She'd taken him to the market on their first free day. She'd been glad that he followed her closely and didn't cause a scene. Had he tried to draw her attention to the fungus stalls? They'd been right there. She shook her head. Needing to plan ahead for four full hands of ash between market visits must be foriegn to him when she had gone so frequently before. 

She clenched her fist around the spoon. He didn't trust her enough to tell her of his mistake, but more than that, she should have noticed. Damn Anilith and damn her guard duty. At least obtaining more food for Lucifer was something she could fix. 

Lucifer grew more distant and withdrawn each ashfall. She dragged him along with her to guard duty, but even in ashfall the winds were stronger on top of the wall and despite the mask pulled up over his face, the ash overwhelmed him quickly. He coughed longer each time they re-entered the barracks.

Even in sleep he was not safe. 

He never told her more about where he went while asleep after the first time, but it was nowhere good. She nudged his arm, hoping that would be enough to quiet him for the night, but she doubted it. He grunted and rolled and quieted again. All the same, she tried falling back to sleep. 

It didn’t work. Lucifer grew restless again, groaned, his limbs moving randomly in distress. Maze sat up, hoping he’d settle and rest again. He released a low moan, and a pathetic whimper. Lucifer tensed, back arching in agony. His glamour fell away, returning him to the red, burned appearance he'd worn for so long. Mazikeen reacted in a heartbeat, one hand on his shoulder to hold him still and the other over his mouth to muffle the scream before it could escape. 

His reaction was instantaneous, but she was ready. This too was becoming a common routine. He fought, trying to push her hands away, but Maze adjusted, straddling him, holding him down with her body and restraining his arms. 

“Lucifer, Lucifer, stop, look at me,” Maze ordered. 

His struggles eased and he opened his eyes, staring up at her. She held onto him still, until she was sure he understood. 

“The light, Maze, I need…” 

Maze let him go and stood up, seeking out a candle to light. “Better?” She turned back to see Lucifer sitting up. 

He nodded. “It happened again?”

“Yes.” 

“Maze—”

“I woke you before you made noise,” she assured him. The other Lilim in the barracks hadn’t been disturbed. This time. 

He raised his hands, staring at the burned flesh for a moment and faltered, lowering them back to his lap. Slowly his skin smoothed as his glamour slipped back into place. 

“We can’t keep doing this,” Maze whispered and crouched down at his side. “You told me a part of you goes somewhere else when you sleep. How do we stop it?”

He sighed. “We can’t.” 

Maze felt her stomach twist at how raw Lucifer sounded. “You continue to be drawn to the Spire in your sleep?” 

He nodded his head, lips tightly shut. 

The sleep wandering had grown so much worse since their move to the barracks. Perhaps if she found a way to remove him from this place, he would fare better. And so, over the next few ashfalls, she arranged with the guard master to secure one of the empty, run-down domes close to the wall. 

“We’re moving back to our dome?” Lucifer asked after she told him to pack up his things.

“Not quite.” She didn't miss the way his breathing hitched as he packed and she didn't. The alcove already looked too empty. She swallowed and reminded herself that he needed this and she couldn't be selfish.

He didn't speak until his things were all put away. His voice was soft as he said, "When we were called to the—"

She couldn't stand to talk about that while sending him away. "Not here, Lucifer. Come on." 

His mouth snapped shut and he followed her to the new dome as quiet as a shadow. There were holes in the roof she needed to patch, and she would not trust it to withstand a storm, but it would be good enough. Lucifer set to work dusting and sweeping without being told, so she patched the holes, equally quietly. 

They spent the ashfall cleaning and repairing, and moved the rest of his items in just before the winds picked up. He hovered near the door, glancing at her and then away as if he wanted to speak.

Maze put on her cloak. 

“You’re not staying?” 

“Not this time. I will some winds, but I also have my duties, Lucifer. You'll live here. You can’t stay in the barracks or stand watch with me anymore. It’s not good.” 

He nodded. His head was down. She wanted to shake him. Tell him to look her in the eye as he used to, but force never worked with Lucifer. 

“I’ll be here when I can,” Maze assured him.


	4. To Market, To Market

****

# Chapter 4 To Market, To Market

****

_This is your fault_ , a voice inside Lucifer’s head taunted. He pushed the distracting noise aside.

There weren’t enough coins coming in to stock their supplies. It wasn’t Maze’s fault. She fulfilled the duty of the post Anilith assigned her to, and ensured there was an ample supply of leather work for him to take to the market for trade.

It should have been enough to cover all their needs, but everyone knew he wasn’t Lilim. No haggling or discounts were given to a beast like himself. 

Rillam, the hide seller with green hair and scaly face, spat to the side as she looked over Lucifer’s bag of finished goods. She eyed him as she reached into her pouch and tossed five ornate coins in his general direction. 

“Where’s the rest?” He waited for her to add to the pile. This work was worth far more than that. 

"You think you can get better?" She pushed the pieces back across the table. "Go on. Try another stall."

He glared at her. They both knew no one else would buy from him. But as he reached to take the coins she placed her hand down on them. In her other hand she held five more coins, displaying them on the her palm. “Show me the beast face.” 

“And you’ll give me the full worth of these items?” 

She nodded and her forked tongue poked out of her mouth, moistening her lips. 

_It's not important, this is your true face anyway, is it not?_ He pushed the annoyance in his mind away again; buried it. 

Showing his true self was a small price to pay in exchange for having enough coin to restock their supplies. It was a choice he'd gladly make. 

The glamour let go as he reached within himself, harnessing the disgust and contempt he felt there. Heat built within, spreading, twisting his skin into something else, something other…or so he wished to believe. But no, this monster was the real him. He let it manifest for just a moment and then released it, gliding back into his proper disguise. 

He held out his hand for the extra coins, and the seller smirked as she deposited the tokens into his hand. 

_It’s your fault Maze was punished in the Spire. It should have been you._ The voice within took on one of his brothers' tones. He couldn’t ignore it, even though he knew it wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. No one here spoke Enochian. He knew it was only a memory of his brother’s voice, but he didn’t know how to stop it. Why couldn’t he stop it? 

But it was right, whatever it was. He was the reason Maze was relegated to a position far beneath her dignity, subjected to the gossip and jeers of her fellow Lilim who rejoiced in seeing their betters humiliated and demeaned. 

His chest squeezed tighter at the thought of Maze. She was a warrior. It was a powerful, respected thing. She was used to respect. She was proud and important. 

He went round to the few stalls that would take his coin. They were small vendors on the edges of the market with goods below the standards of the main sellers. The dead flesh he purchased smelled worse here. The fungus tasted ashy, but they had to eat, and even here none would buy Maze’s work from him. Rillam was alone in that. Exchanging coins for the things he needed was still an uncomfortable concept in his mind, foreign, just like everything else. How did anyone know the right amount of coins were being exchanged for the goods received? Listening to the other Lilim arguing over prices only confused him further. He’d tried it once, only for Rillam to tell him he’d better pay what was asked or risk not having anything sold to him at all. 

There were no coins left after he was through, but he had the barest provisions he needed to survive. He wouldn’t be going back to the dome empty handed. 

It was much further to walk to their new dome by the wall. It was much smaller than what Maze had lived in before, the walls were crumbling and ash accumulated in corners from the drafts that found their way in. But they’d fixed it up as much as possible. The wind howled louder here than it had in Maze’s previous dome, but as a shelter it sufficed. 

He hung the dead flesh on the wall beside the hearth. Maze had commented before that she appreciated having food waiting for her, and he’d been diligent since then to keep their supplies well stocked in things she liked. Most of his coin went to purchasing the most recently deceased flesh at the stalls.

Guarding the wall took up most of her time, the least Lucifer could do was show her he could take care of things in the dome. If he kept the small shelter clean and well stocked with food Maze liked, maybe she’d come home more often. 

He waited. The door covering flapped as the winds began to rise with the end of ashfall. He knew she would have come if she was able, so he tied the cover in place, securing it to keep the blowing ash out. 

He lit a tiny bundle of moss, and filled his pot with just enough water for a single portion of porridge and ate alone. He shivered in the dark, but it was better to conserve the hearth moss. He kept the voices at bay as well as he could until he couldn't keep his eyelids open any longer.

And then he slept alone. 

The dreams returned, as they always did. Dreams of being bound and unable to move, of darkness, of silence. When he woke up to those he lit one of his few remaining candle stubs and pulled a cape over his shoulders against the chill lodged deep within. Other times the dreams were of blue flames, of all encompassing pain, burning, screaming for help, for forgiveness, and hearing only taunts and jeers in answer.

He woke alone, and ate alone, and waited. 

The whelps found him early on, and tried to coax him out to join them. Wasn’t that what started this whole mess to begin with? Flaunting his presence to the Lilim? He was just a beast to them, his presence, no matter where he went, was offensive. What if he did something Anilith could hold against Maze to punish her again? Keeping his head down, staying quiet, that was how he could help Maze. 

Fraq and the others came to his door over and over again, and he continued turning them away. And then an ashfall passed without them throwing things and calling for him, two, three, and Lucifer resigned himself to not even having them calling him names to look forward to each ashfall. So he waited alone in between Maze's visits. 

“Lucifer,” he heard Maze call from outside. She stomped her feet to dislodge the ash from her boots and brushed off as much as she could from her cloak before coming in. 

With a roll of his shoulders he disappeared his wings. It was easier to move around in the small space without them getting in the way. 

She’d never come home at the beginning of an ashfall before. He hurried to light the hearth fire and tossed several moss bundles on it before she had worked the door flap open. He didn't tell her how little he used when she wasn't with him. He didn't have any right to complain. If not for him they wouldn't have been forced to move. If not for the weakness of spirit that caused his nightmares he could be in the secure barracks with Maze, so he built the fire up and cast off the blanket and cloak. She surveyed the dome, giving him only a cursory glance as he nearly tripped in an attempt to clean the mess he’d made of trying to craft with the small leather scraps around him before focusing on their provisions. 

“I picked up everything we needed at the market,” he explained as she sorted through the baskets. 

“You had enough coin?”

“Yes.” 

She grunted and emptied her pouch of a new batch of crafting she’d done at the wall that he could use for trade, and poked through the scraps Lucifer had been working on. None of his work went into the trade worthy pile; he hadn’t expected them to. 

"It's cold in here." She checked the hearth moss basket and found it over half full. 

Lucifer looked away. Not talking about it was the norm between them now. 

Maze plucked the dead flesh from the hook on the wall and skewered it on an iron bar to heat over the flame of the hearth as she sat on the bedroll beside him.

He got up to prepare a flask of alcohol to share, and when he turned back to her, he caught her staring at his back. She looked away. 

Even banished, his wings were a problem. The spot where he’d pulled out the primary to give to Anilith was taking a long time to grow back. It was a physical reminder of the moment he betrayed Maze and caused her punishment, and he was careful to hide his wings since the first time he noticed Maze staring at the ugly spine slowly growing in its place. 

While she was away, his mind raced with all the things he wanted to talk to her about. He missed her presence, he missed the companionship. But when she was with him, there was only awkward silence. 

“You’re doing fine on your own?” she asked as she finished eating. She drank from the flask he offered her and handed it back. 

Lucifer took a long drink. He savored the burn. He saved the alcohol for her visits, too. “I am,” he assured her. 

“Good.” She stood up and put her cloak back on. “I need to get back to my duties at the wall.”

She was leaving already? But she only just got there. 

“Should I pick up more dead flesh for you at the market?” Lucifer asked. He didn’t know what more he could do to coax her to stay. 

“Bring home what you want,” Maze grumbled, and she secured the round bowl-like helmet on her head that marked her as one of the wall-guards. 

_She prefers the company of her own kind over an abomination like you. How did she stand being near you for so long? How did she force herself to couple with a beast?_ Lucifer drank the rest of the alcohol trying to drown the voice out. 

When he woke the next ashfall, his head ached and his stomach soured, but he took the trade and went back to the market for more dead flesh and alcohol. 

“Not interested.” Rillam grumbled. What would he do if Rillam refused to trade with him? Had he offended her?

“Why not?” The thought of going to Maze and telling her he couldn’t handle the market made his stomach turn. 

Rillam smirked. 

Oh. The vendor wanted to see his burned skin again? He released the glamor over and let his true form emerge. He pushed the bag of craft to the vendor. “Better?”

But she shook her head. Her grin widened and she looked pointedly at the shelter behind her table where a hide protected her wares from the ash. “I want more than just a glimpse of your face.”

“And then you’ll trade with me?” He followed her behind the screen. As soon as they were out of view, she grasped his hand and pushed at his body covering, exposing more of the skin of his arm. 

"I’ll take if off if you agree to pay a fair price for those wares. Deal?" 

She hissed in a breath and nodded. 

He tossed his cloak onto a basket of goods, and unpinned the chiton beneath. 

She reached forward and trailed her fingers along his scarred chest but he caught her wrist and pulled her hand away.“You want to touch me?” he asked, and she made a rumbling sound in her throat. “That will cost more.” He was getting the hang of this game.

"I will pay double if you stay half a finger of ash."

He had plenty of time. He shucked the rest of his garments off, and tossed them into a pile near the door. "Agreed."

He stood in place and allowed her hands to roam over his body for the agreed upon time. When it had passed, he replaced his clothes and she passed him a small pile of coins. The exchange was so unlike the last time he'd been touched in this form.

She caressed his arm again as she said, "Don't bother with the crafts next time."

He bought the things he knew Maze preferred, and had enough to buy a few candles for himself. He hoped next time Maze would stay to sleep, but the winds rose and she didn’t come at all. Lucifer's memories haunted him with vindictive pettiness. The rustling of the door flap morphed into the sound of the whip snapping at Maze’s back. The darkness and silence took him back to the dungeon where time slipped away and his body grew cold and numb.

_There are worse things than being forgotten in the dark._

The voice was right. He remembered the fiery lake. Agony searing away all sense of self. 

_That was the punishment Father intended. To burn for an eternity._

Lucifer woke to a cold and dark dome. He patted the other side of the bed he and Maze shared. Cold. Just as he knew it would be. Ridiculous of him to check. 

_She’s avoiding you. You’re the reason she won't come home._

He struck the igniting stones until a spark caught in the bundle of moss. He blew on it, nurtured it into a meager flame. He only needed enough to stir his porridge and flavor his water. He'd grown used to the cold and dark by now.

He missed Maze. 

When she was near, it was easier to brush off the memories. The memory of his sibling’s voices, accusing, renouncing, words in a language he doubted he would ever hear again. The shame of failure pressed in all around him.

Was she really this busy at the wall, or was she avoiding coming home to him? If she came back he could make it up to her. 

_You caused this. You have no right to demand explanations._


	5. Lucifer's First Job

****

# Chapter 5 Lucifer's First Job

****

The dead flesh he brought home for her began to smell worse and decay. When she returned, he wanted to show he made an effort. That he wanted to make things right. 

Now he knew he could contribute to the upkeep of the dome on his own merits, and a tiny flame of pride flickered in him. Rillam had promised him double. He could purchase food and have enough left over for another blanket with that much, and so he dressed in easy to remove clothing, and marched to the marketplace. 

The green haired Lilim reacted as soon as he entered the square, sweeping her wares into baskets. By the time he'd wended his way through the crowd, she had her stall shut tight. Lucifer walked toward the privacy of the screen she’d taken him behind before, but she stopped him with a hand on his arm. 

Lucifer hesitated. "I thought this is what you wanted?"

“You want more coin, don’t you? We can make more.”

He didn’t understand. "You said to bring no trade."

She pressed against him, and whispered in his ear, " _You_ are the trade. Follow me if you want to earn more coin."

"I won't follow you to another place. If you want sex, we can do it in there."

"This isn't some pop-up orgy. It's like the Commons, but for throwbacks. Have you never seen the dome with the _tantalizing_ carvings near Tyndale's shop? You want to earn regular coin, yes?"

"Of course."

"Then you need more customers than just me."

He glanced toward the Commons. "They won’t accept non-Lilim."

"The Commons is for warriors. Throwbacks are more open minded. They enjoy...unique bodies." She pressed against him. "And you possess the most unique body we've ever seen."

"I say who touches me."

She frowned in confusion. "What other way is there?"

He swallowed hard. _What indeed_. But he wouldn’t return home without supplies. He was done with burdening Maze. 

Rillam snaked her hand under his clothes and raked her fingernails up his back. The touch tingled through his body and _want_ spread in its wake. Maze hadn't touched him like that since the first wind in the barracks. He brushed Rillam's hair away from her scaly face and pressed his lips to hers. Her long, forked tongue prodded at his lips, and he opened his mouth to her, reveling in the sensations she drew forth. They stood groping and tasting one another as a small crowd formed. 

Rillam grinned as she pulled away. “You want some, you pay,” she called out to the crowd, and proudly led him away. It was just another exchange of goods. 

It made sense. He could satisfy his want for sensation, and be valued. Unlike the time he was manipulated and left behind with the trash, this time he knew the terms. This time, he’d be in control. 

She took him to the large dome where elaborate standing columns and carvings guarded the entrance. He recognised this place. Fraq had pointed it out on his first attempt to reach the market so many, many hands of ash ago. Sexual appendages wrapped around the column, intertwined representations of all shapes and sizes. Some were thick, others more tongue like, or with strange scales and suckers adorning their shafts. They curved around a multitude of breasts and disappeared into folds of layered flesh. 

“You like what you see?” Rillam asked with a smirk. 

He wanted more than to look at these wonders carved in stone. “Are these real?” 

She laughed. “Welcome to Leviathan’s Pit. Let’s get you inside.”

The more he explored the collective, the more he understood how they grouped themselves. All Lilim possessed certain monstrous features, but it was the least monstrous of them that were favored in the Spire and dealt their wares in the market. These were the throwbacks, as rejected as him in many ways.

This place was filled with Lilim with the most interesting characteristics. Fur, horns, tentacles, and things he didn’t even know how to classify were prominent features of them all. 

He laughed out loud. Oh, how glorious.

Several Lilim paired off in couples or groups on one side of the room, and on the other, low tables and lounging mats surrounded two vendors, one selling cooked flesh and the other alcohol. This place had an air of permanence about it, and the groups and couples trading pleasure, paying him no attention whatsoever, settled his mind. The memory of being used and discarded faded away. This was going to be _fantastic_. 

The vendor paid a coin to the large Lilim looming just inside the door, and led Lucifer to an empty patch of bedding. She began removing her clothes and he shrugged out of his. 

"Change."

His own skin, raw, red, burned and pitted as it was, would just be another monster in a room of monsters. 

The form came easier each time he revealed it. His choice. The pain and horror—unwanted reminders of the fiery lake—gnawed at him, but he pushed that down. He stood before her, nude, red and scarred and she purred low in her throat, reaching for him with lust in her eyes. Her touch went straight to his groin and he groaned at the pressure, gripping her arms and dragging her tight against him. He kissed her again. When she bit into his neck, his knees buckled. She shoved him onto his back and mounted him. Her hands wrapped around his wrists, pushing his arms out to the sides, holding him in place as he writhed beneath her. She panted as her movements sped up, and she released his hands to touch herself as she ground against him. He cupped her breasts, squeezing and kneading. 

He felt pressure building inside, so close, but she stopped, moaning loudly, clenching around him. It wasn't enough to send him over the edge to his own climax. She slid off him and stood up, smirking as she looked down at him. Addressing the room she called out, “Any takers?” 

A large male with coarse pebbly skin, jutting lower teeth, and long clawed fingers stepped up and jingled his purse. Rillam held out her hand, accepted payment, and stepped away. 

The rough-skinned male didn't speak, only tilted his head. Lucifer nodded, ready and waiting. The Lilim’s claws scratched Lucifer's hips, exactly how he wanted and needed, and his climax made his whole body tingle with pleasure. The male withdrew and Lucifer flopped onto his side satiated and pleasantly exhausted. 

He was unaware of much of anything until a hand rested on his shoulder. “Up you get, angel.” 

Rillam crouched beside him, gripped his arm and pulled him up into a sitting position. She passed him his chiton, and leggings, and gave him time to get dressed. 

“More will want a taste after that, but not this ashfall, let them wait and their interest will grow stronger. Come back, and there will be plenty of coin for you to make here. Come, let’s return you to the market. You came looking for more than just a fun time, yes?” 

She gave him the coins she'd agreed to pay him and half of what the male had handed her. More than enough to buy everything he needed. Lucifer returned home with a full basket of hearth moss and a heavy blanket. His next meal would be a feast, his porridge so thick that it would have to be scooped like back in Maze's dome. His stomach growled in anticipation, but he put his purchases away and went to the bathing dome to wash himself and the clothes he'd not bothered to clean lately. He lined his eyes with kohl for the first time since they'd been forced to move, and he looked at himself in the mirror with pride. 

The bargain paid off. Maze returned before the winds rose, and she ate the fresh dead flesh he’d brought home. It was well worth the small smile as she brushed her fingers along his cheek. He’d missed this, and leaned in, eager to be with her again, to taste her again. They laid together through windrise, and Lucifer took advantage every moment. Like old times. 

“Come home more often,” Lucifer whispered to her. 

She slept at his side. Maze returned to the dome earlier for a hand of ashfalls after, and he kept up the effort to make the dome and himself perfect. She answered him when he spoke; sat with him by the fire, and he dared to hope they were over their rough patch. 

_Maybe things could go back to the way they were_. 

But the knowledge that he still had her trophy pouch hidden among his items gnawed at him. Perhaps now he could give it back to her. 

"Maze, in the chamber with Anilith when you gave her your Talisman Pouch—"

"We will not speak of that, Lucifer."

"But—"

“I'm going to sleep now."

When she woke, he attempted to tell her he wouldn't speak of it again, but she hushed him before the words left his tongue. She left as soon as the winds calmed. 

Her pouch remained tucked safely away in the purple jellydisc jar. 

_Why haven’t you told her you have her pouch yet?_

He didn’t know. Talking didn't work, but he could put it into her hands with no words. Every time he thought about returning it like that he felt so cold inside that his limbs froze. The pouch was a reminder of his failure at the spire. He ate lukewarm porridge and drank tepid tea and lay back on the bedding. 

Maze didn't return. He needed more supplies; the dead flesh had begun to rot.

He waited; she’d be back. She always came back. He resolved not to mention the pouch again. If all it did was drive her away, he’d keep it a secret forever. 

_Why are you waiting? She doesn’t want to be with you._

He didn’t want to be alone anymore. Thinking about the Leviathan’s Pit sent shivers of anticipation down his spine. The longing for more body sensations drew him. He wouldn’t be alone there. They wanted him; he yearned to be wanted. 

When the winds stopped blowing, Lucifer took a few of his remaining coins and walked back to the Pit. He paid the guard to let him in. Even though it was early, the dome was filled. Everyone stopped to stare, and he momentarily doubted his choice to come here without Rillam to mediate for him. Let them stare. He stripped his clothes and sat on the same bed he'd occupied before. 

Several Lilim went back to their interrupted pleasure. None made offers. With a heavy sigh, he called forth his other skin. A smattering of exclamations sounded from around the dome and three Lilim approached in a group. The first male outsized Lucifer, and his penis was long, thin, and seemed to move independently of his gait. The second was covered in soft, fluffy, brown and black striped fur, and even better his wide penis had multiple heads. The female had yellow scaly skin and the pupils of her purple eyes were vertical slits. They offered him coin and he readily accepted, eager for these new experiences. 

Over the next hand of ashfalls he learned more tricks and techniques than he’d ever imagined possible, and the more adventurous he became in designing new ways to draw pleasure from those who sought him out, the more eager they were to reciprocate.

Lucifer thrust into the body underneath him, the Lilim loudly sharing her enthusiasm for his performance with the rest of the patrons of the Pit. This one hadn’t wanted his ruined skin, she wanted his angelic visage, and he’d been more than willing to deliver. These Lilim, who were nearly as unappealing to others in the collective as he was, weren’t all seeking something even more corrupt than themselves. Some wanted to be desired by perfect symmetry. Whatever they wanted, if he could provide it, he did. 

And for that he was valued. 

Lucifer wanted to be desired in whatever way they would have him. He craved the pleasure derived from bodies intertwined, but most of all, he craved companionship, however fleeting. Alone meant listening to voices that were not his shouting in his mind in a language he longed to forget. It meant existing without purpose in a world he wasn’t designed for. It meant accepting that he’d lost Maze through his own failures. 

In the Pit there was no one to lose. There were always more willing to take their places. With his talents, he drew forth passionate reactions, played on the bodies of those he possessed with ease, and he cherished the control they gave him.

In a very short amount of time, those in the pit accepted him as one of their own. 

The scent of hair-moss wafted through the air. He and Maze had been so happy the first time they shared the drug. He approached the group that smoked it, and he nodded to the one holding the burning moss. Her silver horns sparkled in the firelight. "How much to join?" 

"Three coins." Her forked tongue poked out between pointy teeth as she spoke.

Too much. She waited with an open expression. He knew her, knew what made her scream her pleasure for all to hear. She came to him again and again, and he knew she wasn't hostile to him. This was the game from the marketplace, the one the vendors refused to play with him. But this place was different. It was worth a try. "One coin.” 

She grinned, her teeth bared in the fashion of an amused Lilim. "Two."

He gave her the coins and found space in their circle. A bundle of smoldering moss was passed his way and he placed it to his lips, drew it into his lungs and held it there. A sense of calm and ease washed over him, body and mind. He reclined on the floor cushions and listened to the story the silver-horned female told. The wart-covered male beside him rubbed against his side, and Lucifer rubbed back, welcoming the attention. The story ended, as most stories did, with the humiliation of her enemies. Lucifer laughed along with the others. 

By the time he'd dragged the last of the smoke from his bundle into his lungs, the silver-horned story teller spread herself over him, and he gladly accepted the invitation. 

She stroked her hand through his hair and he kissed her wrist, moving up her arm until reaching her neck and finding a spot just under the horny protrusions on her head that brought forth moans from her lips. He used his skills to make her hips writhe and her breath quicken. He satisfied her, and reached out, needy and wanting as another took her place. It was good. He belonged. 

And after, he collected his clothes and the coins he traded for and staggered back to the dome.

The next time he entered the Leviathan's Pit, he joined the group with the hair-moss again. He reached for his purse, but the silver-horned female waved his hand away and gave him an already burning twist, eager for his company. 

Several ashfalls later, Maze returned at windrise. They reached the dome at the same time and she wrinkled her nose after she sniffed him.

He lit a small fire, then had to add more to it when Maze approached with her dead flesh. 

"Are you short on hearth moss?"

"No," he said, nodding with pride to the full basket in the storage shelf. 

"And you're not keeping the fire going for warmth?"

“I use what I need.” He heated his water and added the amount of powdered fungus he'd grown accustomed to.

She gnawed on the dead flesh for a while, her eyes scanning the room critically. "Is that all you're going to eat?" She asked 

Why did she question him so closely _now_? He looked at the bowl and sloshed the contents. It was twice what he had been eating before he began trading at the Pit. "It's enough."

She looked skeptical, but said, “I heard you frequent the Leviathan's Pit.” 

He nodded, sitting straighter from the pride he felt in satisfying his partners' desires. “Have you been there?” Maybe she would want to go with him? He could show her the skills he learned. 

“Not my kind of place.” 

Right. He’d forgotten the beast-like Lilim there were shunned by warriors with status. 

“That’s where you want to be?” She asked. 

“I’m very good at what I do there,” he said, pride strengthening his resolve. It didn’t matter if Maze approved or not.

Maze didn’t stay long and he hadn’t expected her to. 

_Your presence is poison. Maze is better off without you here._

And what the inner voice said felt true. 

He longed for the hair-moss, and it became routine to join the circle of smokers when he entered the Pit, coupling with them for fun and companionship, and when he needed supplies, there were always plenty who were willing to pay for his skills.

And it was good.


	6. Lania's Den

****

# Chapter 6 Lania's Den

****

He leaned back, content, the large body underneath him rocking slowly, and Rillam in front, straddling. 

“You like it here?” Rillam lisped as she nipped his ear and ground against him.

The male beneath growled and moved and Lucifer moaned his pleasure for all to hear. Grian wasn't the best coupling partner, but what the curly horned Lilim lacked in skill, he made up for in enthusiasm. The throwback's desire, held so very deeply, was for all to know he drew these sounds from Lucifer's coveted body. 

Lucifer did not hold back his appreciation, and sandwiched between the two, he didn't have to pretend. 

"You like earning coin, yes?" Rillam said in his ear.

Did she have to talk _now_? "Yes!"

Rillam sped up the shifting of her hips, pushing him toward his climax. So close…and she stilled, grinning at him. He grunted at her, captive as he was to her attention. 

She started moving again, slowly, and licked at the place she'd bitten earlier. "Did you know that wall guards can bribe their way off the wall?"

Lucifer grabbed her hips, held her still. "No."

"They can, but you'll never earn enough coin from this place. They don't have it."

Grian snarled behind Lucifer. "Leave him be. Mazikeen will never bribe her way off the wall. The Soverain put her there, and there she’ll stay ‘til the Soverain chooses otherwise."

Rillam pushed Lucifer's hands off her hips and stood, stepping over and away. "This place, _The Leviathan's Pit_...throwbacks will never understand ambition. If you know what you want, you take it. Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t." 

Grian growled as she departed, and wrapped his arms around Lucifer's chest. He shifted them onto their sides where he could better move. "You may not be Lilim, but you’re one of us." He thrust harder making Lucifer moan again. "We take care of our own, even if we're not flush with coin."

A chorus of agreements went up from the rest of the hair-moss group. They kept him too entertained to contemplate Rillam's words until it neared wind-rise. He’d spent the last few winds at the Pit already, it was time to stop in at the dome, sweep out the ash, keep the beetles out. He strolled the lanes heading home, and his coin purse was heavier than it had ever been. This quarter was so different than where he and Maze used to live. The domes were as dilapidated as the section near the wall for the guards. The Lilim he greeted were thin and wore ragged clothing, but they never spat at his feet when he walked past. 

The coins weighed on him. He plucked at the chiton he wore; the common clothes he wore everyday were just as ragged as the throwbacks he was mingling with. The things that Maze and Izuden had picked out for him were far beyond what anyone here could scrape together. Rillam's words rang truer every step. 

If what Rillam said about bribes was true, he’d never find that kind of coin here. Grian's words held truth, too. How could Maze bribe herself away when the Soverain ordered her into the post? The one thing that was certain; he'd never find out if he remained too poor to try.

Maze was in the dome when he arrived. The dome was well lit and warm and she had food cooking. 

"Maze!"

"The winds are already high. Why were you out in it?"

Already off to a bad start. He shook out his scarf but held it up for her to see he’d been using it. “I was covered." He checked the tie on the door flap again and tugged it tighter. It never fit quite right. He sat near Maze, but she wrinkled her nose at his odor as he pulled off his chiton. He tossed it in the far corner to wipe down later. Why hadn't he walked a bit faster and bathed? He knew she hated to smell the Pit on him. The least he could do was give her some space, so as an excuse to move, he got up and poured a couple of flasks of alcohol from the storage shelf. 

When he sat down, he put the fire between them. Maze accepted the alcohol and handed him a bowl of porridge in return. It was thick and lumpy and he smiled at the reminder of all the meals she'd fed him in the past. "How"—he cleared his throat—"how long will you be assigned to stand on the wall?"

"For as long as it takes," she growled.

"How long is that?"

“As long as Anilith wants me there.” She grimaced and spat into the hearth. 

He opened his mouth to ask what that meant, but she cut him off. 

"Go to sleep, Lucifer."

It was a dismissal. He got up instead and did what needed to be done. He wiped off his chiton, swept the ash out of the corners that had collected there in the last couple of winds. All the normal things he did to keep the dome in order. 

Maze ignored him. The silence between them stretched. Normally, when he was alone in the dome he’d take the opportunity to release his wings, stretch out. But there wasn’t room for it with another present. And the way Maze looked away whenever his wings were present only served to remind him of his failure to her in the Spire. Better to keep them hidden. To spare her the scent of the Pit on his skin, he wrapped himself in his blanket and let Maze have the bedroll. It wasn't her fault he stank. 

“Sleep well,” she said, voice low, as she lay down on the bedroll. 

“You, too.” He didn’t say more, not wanting to risk driving her away for an even longer period of time. 

When he woke, she stood by the door flap, armor and helmet on, waiting for the winds to calm. He sighed and rolled tighter in the blanket. Things would never be okay between them as long as she had to stand guard duty. If Rillam knew a place he could earn more coin, how could he not take her up on it? The door flap opened and closed, and Lucifer drifted back to sleep.

He assumed Maze forgot something when the door flap shook and the ties were pulled outward to be undone. Who else would it be? He’d never seen another Lilim enter someone else's dome without permission, and so he stayed rolled up like a cocoon in his blanket and thought nothing of it.

“How the mighty have fallen.”

He sat up and tossed the cover off. “Rillam?” 

“I bet warrior Mazikeen never thought she’d end up in a place like this.” 

The green-skinned Lilim removed her cloak and plunked herself down on his blanket beside him. She leaned in close, inhaling the scent of his skin, and grinned. “Wanted to talk. Without those throwbacks around to interrupt.” 

He rolled his eyes. “ _Those throwbacks?_ Aren’t you one of them?” 

She hissed and let a low grumble sound in her throat. “Borderline. My stall is in the market. It is an advantage to sell my wares to whoever I want.” 

Lucifer stood up and sniffed the chiton before pulling it on. 

“Did you think about the coin?” 

He glanced her way. “I could make enough to get Maze away from wall duty?” 

“You won’t stand a chance at the Leviathan’s Pit.”

Sadly, what she said rang true. “What do you have in mind?” It was just as well she was here; at least he didn’t have to seek her out. 

“A new place. Better place.” She joined him across the room and reached into his clothing basket, pulling out his best pieces and thrust them at him. “Get dressed and come with me.” 

He pulled on the tunic and leggings. But he wasn’t finished. He picked up the kohl to outline his eyes. Rillam snatched it from his fingers. 

"Let me?" she asked. 

He sat still for her, as he did for Maze…or used to do for Maze. Rillam studied her handiwork after and then smudged her thumb under his eye, drawing it outward, and grinned. "Not bad." 

Lucifer scoffed. Not bad? He knew he looked good. But he hesitated before following her out the door. He liked the Pit. He didn’t know what kind of place Rillam wanted to bring him to now.

"You coming?" 

He tied the door flaps in place. Rillam had led him to the Pit. She knew what she was doing. If she thought this place would make him enough coin to make things better for Maze, he had to try. 

They left throwback district, heading toward the spire. Lucifer didn't look up as they passed the tower and into an area of multi-domed long-houses decorated in shells and carved bones. She brought him to a very large dome that had carved bone plaques built into the wall. He expected to be led past this area, but to his surprise, Lania took him right up to one of the multi-dome complexes. The carvings showed Lilim hunting four legged beasts far larger than themselves. Instead of a door flap, this structure had a solid shell-plate door. 

Inside, the dome was divided in half. One of the first he'd seen with inner dividing walls. A homey hearth and wall shelves occupied one end of the open area in front of the door. Dead flesh roasted over it and a pot of fragrant tea simmered near-by. Lilim lounged on cushions, some of them simply lying alone with vacant smiles on their faces. Others coupled in groups of twos or threes. A haze of hair-moss hung in the air. It reminded him a great deal of the feel of the Pit, and that settled the nagging doubt that he shouldn't be here. A familiar smell tickled his memory underneath everything else. Old sandals, clothes that had been left wet and not allowed to dry correctly, perhaps.

A solid door blocked the partition.

"What's in there?" Lucifer asked Rillam. 

She wrapped around him, and nipped at his neck. "Private rooms. You'll find out soon enough if Lania takes a liking to you."

_Lania?_

And there she was. He _knew_ her. This female, darker toned like Maze, her face perfect and symmetrical. Her clothing only covered the front of her body, showing off the shimmering blue scales on her back. 

A mix of confusing emotions soared through him. Disgust. Betrayal. This was the Lilim who led him from the commons. She'd promised so much, and he'd been left with the trash. 

Rillam was a fool. He'd never be accepted here. Lania had manipulated him, broken down his glamour, made him expose his wings against his will. If Rillam expected him to pass some kind of test with Lania, he knew from experience he'd already failed. 

"Lucifer!" Lania smiled, showing off her fangs. Before he could turn and walk out, she caught his arm, the sharpened claw of her index finger coming to rest on the soft skin of his inner wrist. "I am pleased to see you again." 

He frowned. _She treated him like trash. Manipulated_ — 

Her gaze traveled his frame, "I wasn't sure we'd meet again. What _did_ you tell your handler about our last encounter? Did you not enjoy our time together? You seemed to be having such a _good_ time."

Yes, it had been good...at first. 

"Did your handler Mazikeen tell you she visited us after? I admit, I hadn't known at the time how upset she would be at us for using her property without permission. Does she know you're here now?" 

He frowned. "No, Maze doesn't control—" 

"Poor thing. I never meant to get you in trouble." Lania continued, pulling him along to sit on a plush cushion. She poured hot tea into a small clay bowl and passed it to him. "We never meant to be too rough on you. I thought you liked it." 

"I did," he said. Didn't he? So much of it was a blur. "You left me there." 

"To sleep," she smiled. "I sent a messenger for your handler to come get you. She found you, didn't she?" 

He remembered waking up. Had they really… 

"How's the tea?" Lania asked. 

Lucifer took a sip, there was a tinge of fermentation in it. Next, she placed a small disc that smelled sweet in his hand. He tentatively bit off the end. Oh, that was good. 

"I love your outfit. You look so Lilim," she stroked the soft leather. "I hope you won't get into trouble with your handler for being here." 

"I go where I choose," Lucifer insisted. "There won't be any trouble." 

Lania poured more tea into his little clay bowl. "I heard about Mazikeen's troubles. It's a shame to waste a warrior in such a low position." 

Rillam smiled and hissed lightly with her forked tongue extended as she interjected. "Coins. This is a good place for making coins."

"Oh?" Lania asked. “Are you short on coins?”

Lucifer looked from one to the other and nearly laughed. Did they really think they were fooling anyone? That he wouldn't catch onto their ruse? Rillam hadn't brought him here without purpose. Lania wasn't surprised to see him. They were plotting something. 

"He's a favorite at the throwback pit," Rillam continued. 

Lanai let out a brief snort. "This is not a pit for _throwbacks_."

He'd had enough. He wasn't about to be manipulated again. He glanced around the room. "And this certainly isn't as interesting or as varied as the Leviathan’s Pit. I can't see anything here that will hold my interest." 

Lania only smiled. "I always expected there was more to you than the rumors said. Rillam tells me you've developed quite the talent to please, and I promise you, there is a lot more here to hold your interest than you're aware."

He ate the disc and washed it down with more tea. The fermentation seeped into his limbs, easing his worry. "How so?" 

Lania grinned. "Care for a tour?" She glanced at the partitioned area off to the side. 

"Why not?" It wasn't like he had anything else to do. And this wasn't like before. He had experience now. He knew what the transaction was. 

Or he thought he knew. Rillam gladly took over his clay bowl as Lania took his hand and escorted him to the other area. 

The room she led him to was dark. "Candle," he said, and resisted all her advances until a small lantern was lit. There were fur rugs, cushions. Shelves of strange and various items, oddly many of them looked like weapons. 

Lania walked around him, stalking. "Bring out your wings for me angel," she whispered. 

He laughed. Not a chance. "No. I'll have to be enough, as I am." 

She hummed. "You think you _can_ be enough?" 

"Is that a challenge?"


	7. Holding Steady

****

# Chapter 7 Holding Steady

****

Lucifer used all his skill to satisfy Lania, and then she turned the tables on him using a delightful harness to bring him to the same heights of pleasure. She introduced a switch and taught him the joys carefully controlled blows could add. He looked forward to adding it to his skill set. Even if nothing else came from the encounter, Lucifer was content that he'd be leaving here with an entirely enjoyable experience. Afterward, he lay on the rug panting, and Lania lay at his side, her claws lightly trailing over his lower belly. 

"Well." 

"Well." 

They looked at each other. Lania smiled. "Was that interesting enough for you?"

He grinned back. "Mmm. How'd you like my talent?" 

Lania laughed out loud. "Oh yes. I think you'll fit in quite nicely here." 

He stayed the rest of ashfall, and Lania invited him to sleep with her over wind. It wasn't like he had anything to go home to. There were two males who spent the majority of their time preparing tea and meals, when they weren't lounging in a daze on the cushions. They didn't try to sneak flesh into Lucifer's stew, and whatever it was left his mouth watering for more. Lania invited him to share her own bedroll, and he did. It was the best sleep he'd had in hands of ash-falls. 

And when he woke, Lania was there, ready to introduce him to new experiences. Those weapons he saw on the shelves in the private room, apparently weren't weapons at all. Each had multiple uses, and Lania helped him explore them all. 

After reducing Lania to a writhing happy mess the third time, she tugged him down to lay beside her. "If I can get my legs to work," she said, stroking Lucifer's back slowly. "I have a special gift for you." 

"Not thistles," he warned. 

Lania laughed. "This is so much better than thistles." 

She brought him back out to the common area and told him to get comfortable on one of the cushions. She came back with a small jar. "You're going to like this." She settled down beside him, licked her finger and dipped it into a powdery substance. She dabbed the powder on his lip. 

He licked his lips. Whatever it was tasted sweet. For a moment that was all it was, and he wondered what was so special… Then his lips and his tongue started to tingle. The rest of it hit quickly after that. He had the sensation of his body lifting up, floating, and he nearly panicked and reached down to grab hold of the cushion beneath him as an anchor. 

Lania laughed. “Relax. Close your eyes.” 

She brushed the back of her hand across his cheek, and the feel of her fingers against his skin set loose a cacophony of reactions through his body. Too much. “Let it take you,” she continued to soothe. 

Lucifer held onto her, as the room seemed to spin around him. She eased his head back against the cushion, stroked his hair. _Let it take you._

He felt better as he relaxed. The floating wasn’t so much alarming as it was familiar. It was flying. He knew it was all an illusion, but he could feel the memory of flight. It felt real. He stretched out his arms soaring on the air currents. Racing among the stars.

Lania laughed beside him and her finger brushed his lips again, he opened his mouth this time, licked the rest of the powder off her skin. The sensations within him magnified. It was amazing. He could spend forever like this, but slowly the world returned around him. 

He lay, loose and comfortable in the aftermath, as Lania wove herself around him. 

"What is this?"

"This is the other reason Lilim come here. It's called lethe. Do you like it?"

"Oh, yes."

He returned to his dome that ashfall. There were washing facilities at Lania’s Den, far superior than the communal hut by the wall the guards used, but he needed to get fresh clothing. He needed to restock Maze’s supplies. 

The market was slowing down by the time he passed. Rillam’s stall was closed, reducing his options. Nothing brought him back to reality faster than the disdainful looks the vendors at the outer stalls gave him, the way they spat into the ash as he stepped up to their carts. He ordered the flesh and the fungus jars, and the vendors quickly passed him the wares and rushed him away. 

“Take your beast stench with you,” the male jeered, and snickers from those nearby who heard joined in. 

He took his items and moved on. The wind rose up more quickly than usual, and he pulled up his scarf, walked faster. He paused at a division in the lane, left or right? He knew this area, why was it difficult to concentrate? He took left, walked to the end. No, that wasn’t the way. He turned and went right instead. The lanes emptied as the wind blew harder. He could barely see through the blowing ash by the time he reached his dome. And even then he had to pause and fumble with the door ties to get in. 

Finally. He pushed his market items inside and crawled in, trying to hold back the coughing until getting the knots back in place as well as he could, and only then succumbed to the burning in his chest. The dome was dark and he bent double as he struggled to draw breath in as he worked to expel the ash he’d breathed. 

The dome was cold. That was nothing new. He was well practiced at fumbling in the dark for the candles, and he left his cloak on as he threw some moss on the hearth to light a fire. Maze hadn’t been back since her last visit. The thin coating of ash was undisturbed on their items. He worked at putting the provisions he bought away. Swept the corners. 

He could have stayed over in Lania’s Den again. Why didn’t he? The off chance Maze would come home? She probably preferred it when he wasn’t here anyway. 

He stayed only as long as the wind kept him confined indoors, and at the first hint of ash, collected what he needed and went back to Lania. His mood lifted considerably when Lania greeted him with another offer of lethe, and everything that troubled him was swept away as he relaxed and let the drug ease his mind. 

Many Lilim came and went from this place. They found partners, and some enjoyed themselves in the common area, some retreated to the private rooms to partake in the more creative tools to be found there. 

“Wen?” Lucifer sat up when he saw Fraq’s former pack-mate. But the whelp looked away and hurried on without acknowledging him. Lucifer assumed Wen was like so many others and considered consorting with a beast beneath his dignity. So be it. Lucifer wouldn't bother him again. His former companion followed another Lilim into a private area off limits to the rest of the patrons of Lania’s Den. When he asked what that space was for, he was told was that it belonged to a powerful Lilim who provided this space for Lania, and to mind his own business if he knew what was good for him.

There were enough who craved new experiences that Lucifer wasn’t alone for long. The patrons of Lania’s Den learned that if they wanted a unique experience, Lucifer was the one to see. Every Lilim he accompanied into the private room came out with stories of how the angel beast used the tools in a way they never expected. None of them were ever disappointed. 

There was a camaraderie he missed from the Leviathan’s Pit. The patrons of Lania’s Den were not friends; they were customers at a market seeking a service. It was a service Lucifer was wholly dedicated to providing, but there were no conversations or friendly moments of mutual satisfaction. Even the others, like Lucifer, who were there to collect coins rather than spend them, were uninterested in companionship. 

There were some, the thralls, Lania called them, who came only to bargain for more lethe. A different caliber of Lilim came to Lania’s Den to partake in what those were offering. The thralls often emerged from the private rooms bruised and bloodied, but when they settled in on the lethe cushions, their pain and need was washed away just as thoroughly as anyone else's. 

Lucifer found the lethe to be a perfect way to begin the ashfall and forget the dinginess of his dome, and the loneliness of waiting for Maze, and even better at fortifying himself for what he was going back to. Nothing. The lethe made stopping at the market bearable, how could he be insulted by random Lilim spitting at his feet and mumbling about beasts under their breath when he was still riding the euphoria of soaring above them in his mind? 

It took a moment when he arrived home to the dome to register the light creeping out from under the door flap. An intruder? What kind of intruder would light the hearth and stick around after? 

He loosened the knots and stepped inside. Maze? She sat by the fire, lounging on the bedroll and messing with a leatherwork project he’d done hands of ashfalls ago. She had his work spread out around her. 

“Maze!” He quickly tied the door flap closed and joined her at the hearth. Still elevated by the lethe he’d had before leaving Lania’s, he brushed off the underlying tension between them. 

“Where do you keep your new pieces?” 

He didn’t follow. Oh, the leather work. “There are no new pieces. Maze—”

“You stopped practicing?”

“Why would I waste my time on that?” All he ever did was waste leather that could be put to better use elsewhere. Nothing he did was worth anything, why else would she keep tossing it in the not-worthy-to-sell pile? 

“You think leather working is a waste of time?”

He missed the tone that should have warned him. He tried to cover up his confusion with a laugh. “My efforts are obviously better spent on other things.” There were so many new things he’d learned that he wanted to share with her. He rose up on his knees and leaned in, kissing her collarbone. 

She pushed him away and he landed back on his butt. “Maze?” 

“Am I a joke to you?” 

He blinked. Where did that come from? “What?” 

She swept his leather works to the side like the trash they were. “Nothing.” She gestured at his basket from the market. “Have I been _wasting enough time_ on leatherworking to keep our provisions stocked?” 

It was hard to keep up with her train of thought, but he nodded. “Yes,” he traded what she provided at the market, and he had a stockpile of coins that he’d built up from the trade he made with his own talents at Lania’s Den. 

“How does a wall-guard stop being a wall-guard?” he asked. 

Maze glared. “This again?” 

He refused to back down. “If I could—” 

“Enough, Lucifer. You’ve done _enoug_ h. This is a Lilim matter and doesn’t involve you. Don’t interfere.”

He shut his mouth. She was right. He only made things worse when he tried to help. The memory of the lashes striking her back hit him yet again and he turned away. 

“I’ll take care of things,” Maze said quietly. She made an effort to pile the leather works he’d made into a pile before standing up. The winds hadn’t risen yet. Rather than wait any longer and risk being stuck in the dome with him, she pulled on her cloak and left. 

Lucifer lay down on the bedroll. Alone. 

He couldn’t bear his own thoughts by the time ash-fall came and he went straight to Lania’s Den. The dose of lethe he took when he arrived helped to settle the turmoil within, but only for a short time. He found himself asking Lania for an extra dose to quiet the voices screaming at him from within. 

“You’re no good to me laying here addled on the cushion,” Lania scolded. 

Lania was right. He could try explaining his plan to Maze again. If Maze understood, she’d accept his help to bribe her way off the wall, wouldn’t she? And then things could go back to the way they were before. They’d be good together again. Everything would be fine. It was only the one extra dose he needed to get by, just this once. 

_He was fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To make up for having forgotten to post earlier have another chapter!


	8. Precipice

****

# Chapter 8 Precipice

****

Lania tapped Lucifer’s shoulder as he lounged on the cushions. “You have someone waiting for you, Lucifer.” 

He hadn't seen anyone come in. Lilim seeking him out knew where to find him. “Who’s waiting?” he asked and stretched, taking his time to get up. His last hit of lethe had only been half a finger of ash ago and his head still felt wonderfully light. 

“Private room. You were requested.” Lania hauled him to his feet. 

Lania’s expressions were difficult to read, but right now she seemed even more closed off than usual. Lucifer squinted at her and grinned, hoping to dispel her mood. “Someone new? Someone…important?” he teased, watching her reactions carefully. Her mouth thinned and he laughed out loud. “Oooh, someone important, is it?”

“I never said that. Just go.” 

He leaned in and gave a nip to Lania’s neck as he passed. It was always fun discovering someone new, finding their preferences and testing their limits. He casually walked into the private room, confident in his ability. 

There was no one there. He sighed. A trick of some kind? 

But something stirred off to the side, a presence. He spun to face it but his eyes wouldn't focus. “Hello?” 

It didn’t respond. It was like a blacker spot in a shadow. The sense of _something_ , but he had to blink and turn his head away from the absence of it. Could it be the lethe still in his system? No. Lethe didn’t do this. 

He recognised this. Power. He tensed, ready to fight. 

The voice, when it finally spoke, was just as disconcerting. “Drop your glamour.” 

A stab of pain went through his head. No. He’d been manipulated before. Not again! He had power too, and there was no way— 

_Beast._

That wasn’t his own voice. It didn’t originate from within. The non-form, the shadow, surrounded him. He felt it brush against his skin and he felt a response rise within, a wanting. 

No. This wasn’t his own will, and yet he couldn’t dislodge it. The weakness this place imposed on him made it impossible to block. The power forcing its way into his mind wound itself around his fears. The darkness pressed in around him. All sound beyond the room was silenced. He was alone and trapped, his memories made a prison of the past. 

But it wasn’t real. The part of him still fighting for control knew this was an attack against him and he fought all the harder to free himself from it. 

A pain like no other took over. His wings! He needed to hide his wings. But he couldn’t because they were already hidden. But they were also there, forced into extension, held down, metal pincers grasped the spine at the base, squeezed, and pulled. 

Blood flowed from the wound left behind, and Lucifer shuddered. 

But there was no blood, and no one held him in extension, and his wings were safe and hidden. 

He lay on the floor, shivering. He didn’t know where he was. And he was alone again, alone for so long without food or water. 

_Drink._

Thirst and need surged through him as the shadow brushed against him again. It pressed against his lips and stole his breath. They had left him. Left him to die of thirst and hunger.

A flask lay on the floor beside him. The first object he’d been able to focus on clearly since entering the room. 

Take it.

He stretched, afraid he would grasp at nothing, but the waterskin was real. Desperate, he pried open the clasp and tipped the container. And he drank. The liquid inside wasn’t water. It was sweet. The taste of lethe filled his senses.

_All of it._

All of it. 

The waterskin slipped from his numb fingers and clattered onto the floor. The room spun, tilted sideways. 

Chill grew within him, encompassing everything. Numbness took over, creeping over his skin, erasing all feeling, all connection to his sense of self. He didn’t even feel the ground. He’d never touched the ground. He was high above, flowing on the wind, falling. The shadow enveloped him, and his mind was defenceless as it entered him. Consumed him. And all he knew was the shadow. It was all he’d ever known.

“Lucifer?” 

Everything hurt. His body felt covered in needles, and a massive knife sliced through his eyes and into his skull. 

Something shook him. The light from a candle across the room burned his eyes, set everything on fire. 

He felt a flask pressed against his lips, choked on whatever liquid was forced into his mouth. The hand shook him again and he tried to curl away from it. The routine continued until he opened his eyes again. 

“Lania?” 

The Lilim sighed and sat back. “You gave us a scare.” 

With help he sat up. 

“We found you passed out.” 

Passed out? A sense of horror washed over him and he backed away from Lania. She told him to enter that room, the room where… Where what? He remembered darkness and pain. Thirst. His wings. He’d been held down, a pincer was used to remove his feather. He stumbled to his feet and drew forth his wings, fearful of what he’d find. How many feathers did they take? 

Lania stepped back. Everyone stepped back. 

Everything was as it should be. No feathers were missing. Even the one he’d removed on his own was there, a spine, but it was there. 

But if he had all his feathers, then what had happened in the room? What else was he remembering that wasn’t real? He shrugged his shoulders, pulling his wings back in, hiding them out of existence. 

Lania reached out her hand. “Should I summon your handler?” 

Maze? His knees felt weak and he sat down. Why did his head hurt so much? “No. Don’t send anyone for Maze.” 

A blanket was tossed over his shoulders. Lania knelt in front of him again. “Come join us. Rest by the hearth.” She wrapped her arm around his back. “Would you like some more lethe? To help settle your mind?” 

That sounded good. He let her guide him to the oversized cushions and he lay back. Her finger brushed against his lips and he licked off the fine sweet powder, and was grateful for the release it offered. 

As soon as the unsteadiness in his limbs eased, Lucifer left the Den and headed back to Maze’s dome. There were too many blank areas in his head. What happened in that room? The nightmare images of his ordeal in the Spire stuck with him. He made it home just as the winds picked up. He lit the hearth to dispel the darkness and collapsed onto his bedroll. 

Every time he closed his eyes, his mind traveled back to the Spire. He barely slept, and yet time slipped around him. Each time he reached sleep, he found himself back _there_. Each time he opened his eyes, his body screamed at him. 

He stared into the fire. Why had he wanted to go back to the dome? He should have stayed at Lania’s Den. At least there he wasn’t alone, and with companionship came distraction. Long before the winds died down he readied himself to return to Lania's Den. 

Lania met him as he entered her establishment and looked him over with a critical eye, declared him a mess, and pulled him aside. “No one is going to want you like this.” She stroked his hair and passed him a soft cloak to wear instead of his old chiton. 

“You look tired.” She used her kohl, rubbing her thumb generously beneath his eyes to darken the already bruised and tired look. “It is better to look like a fashion choice.” 

He was ready, and looked forward to the sensual promises another ashfall of coupling would bring. 

How could he have gotten it so wrong? His first partner was someone he knew well, a vendor from the market. In the market, in the sight of other Lilim, this vendor spat at Lucifer’s feet as he passed, refused to trade with him. But here, Lucifer dominated. He knew how to bring forth the gasps and cries of pleasure from the vendor’s lips, and he did it well. 

The vendor was eager, but Lucifer felt none of the excitement the coupling normally brought forth. At the back of his mind lurked darker scenes. The Spire was taking over his thoughts again. He couldn’t enjoy the way the vendor’s hands gripped his wrists if it reminded him of being bound and suspended by his wings as he struggled and— 

He needed more lethe. The lethe would clear his mind. Then he’d be able to focus.

The first encounter of the day left the private room calling for Lania. Lucifer's hands shook as he cleaned and put away the tools of his trade. The spike-through-his-brain headache had returned in full force and his stomach roiled. He couldn’t do it. He'd sent the vendor away after the first few touches, and he wasn't surprised when she stalked through the door.

"You just cost me coin, Lucifer."

"I just need a little more lethe. I couldn’t focus. It didn’t feel like it should."

"That's not how this works. I don't lose coin here."

“Another dose, and I’ll be fine.”

“You’ll owe me.” Lania warned. But she gave him the lethe. He lay sprawled out on the cushions beside the thrall users until he felt at peace again. He discovered, so long as he fortified himself with a hit of lethe before coupling, he could keep the memories at bay and enjoy himself properly. 

He stayed the wind. Lania supplied him with a ceramic bowl he could dip into as needed. All of it was adding to his debt, but if the lethe could help him sleep, then he wouldn’t need as much the next ashfall. 

But when the next ashfall came, he needed more. It was too soon. The images from his memories still lurked on the edges of his consciousness. He couldn’t go into the private room with someone with those thoughts in his head. He didn’t dare risk it. 

“How much credit do you expect me to extend you?”

"I have coin, but I won't need it. Just one more and I’ll be fine."

"There won't be another one today. And there won't be lethe without coin. I want what I'm owed upfront from now on."

"I need it. I can't—I don't want—to be alone."

"It's coin or thrall work. Or no lethe."

Coin it would be. He had a pile saved for Maze already. If he dipped into that, just enough to get over whatever this was, he’d be fine. 

But all that didn’t help him now. The coins he had stashed were back in the dome, across the collective. And he needed more lethe, now. 

The thrall workers groaned and turned away when the next female Lilim entered the Den. He recognised her, but he’d never coupled with her before. She was stingy, only choosing thralls who demanded little in the way of coin, and even they didn’t want to couple with her. Those who did came out of the private rooms with welts and bruises. 

If they didn’t want her… An encounter with her would be enough to cover another dose of lethe. He wasn’t doing thrall work. It wasn’t like that. It was just this once. He’d take her, he’d let her do what she wanted, and that would be it. With more lethe, he’d be able to get back to coupling properly with the Lilim he _wanted_ to be with. 

“I’ll take her,” Lucifer said.

The thralls looked surprised, but none of them protested. Relief was their dominant reaction. 

Lania watched from the distance, but didn’t interfere. 

“I’m not paying extra.” The lilim female warned. 

Lucifer shrugged. “I’m not asking you to,” he answered and offered a teasing smirk to cover up the unease he felt inside. His skin crawled at the thought of touching her, but it was just this once. He’d endured much worse at the hands of the Spire. He could do this. 

And so he took her hand and led her to the back. 

There had been no mutual satisfaction in this encounter. Lucifer lay face down on the floor, his arms and legs still strapped down to hold him immobile, but he couldn't work up the mental energy to care. Even the Spire memories couldn't penetrate the mental and physical exhaustion she'd driven him to. He rested his forehead on the floor. He didn't know how she derived pleasure from what she did to him. It was anger and violence, the switch used to punish, not excite. She wore the strap-on harness as an object of domination, to violate, rather than stimulate. And then she left him there. 

It was Lania who entered the room next. She released the restraints, eased him onto his side, and looked down at him. “I should put this towards covering the debt you already owe.” 

“No, I—” 

“I’ll give you your dose; don’t get worked up. But I want my coin first thing next ashfall. No more handouts.” 

He nodded and picked himself up off the floor. He wanted to wash. But lethe first, then he’d wash. And then he’d make his way back to the dome and count out enough coin to settle his debts with Lania. It would cut into what he’d saved to help bribe Maze off the wall, but it was just this once. He’d build it up again. This was only a temporary set back. 

For once, he was glad Maze was away when he got back to the dome. He counted up his saved coins. What Lania wanted was going to put a dent in his plans, but he was sure he could make up for it quick enough. He wished he’d thought to ask Lania to pack some lethe for him to last the wind. 

His sleep was disturbed numerous times by darkness and terror. Memories of the Spire mixed in with Lania’s Den. It wasn’t the dungeon where he was bound in his dream; it was the private room. And he wasn’t alone. The Lilim female he’d been with was there, and he heard her laughter leak into the shadows even after waking up in a cold sweat. 

The lethe would fix things. He grabbed a couple more coins from his stash before going, just to make sure he’d have enough. 

It helped. Lania was generous with her doses, and so long as he timed his encounters right, he enjoyed himself the way he should with the partners he chose to couple with. He didn't even owe Lania when the winds started picking up and he asked for a bit extra to take back to his dome with him. Of course, he wasn’t taking any coin back with him either, but the next ashfall would be better. He was sure of it. 

Each ashfall he told himself the same thing. He’d start collecting more coins than he spent soon. But each wind that came he seemed to fall short again. 

He started sitting with the thralls more often. In one of his more lucid periods he wondered that he'd never seen Wen again. Maybe he'd not liked the taste of this place. The thralls didn’t seem to mind sharing their partners with him when the need to make a little bit more came up, and he didn’t suspect anything was amiss when Lania told him to meet someone in the private room. It wasn’t like he’d been paying attention to who came and went from the premises. Not like he used to. But then, he never used to spend so much time enjoying the effects of the lethe before. 

As soon as he entered the room, he recognised the presence around him. He turned to leave, but the door was already shut. This wasn’t real. He knew it wasn't real, but here it was. The power around him slithered into his mind before he could mount a defence against it. 

_You are mine._

His heart sped up at the unexpected sound so close to his face. 

He looked up, and blinked. The body above him seemed to float, but he couldn't focus. It was shadow and form, with no clear features other than flecks of gold. He stared and stared, but it was like looking through smoke. 

No. He closed his eyes, concentrated against the fog in his mind, but everything remained blurry. The presence already had a hold of him. He felt the bindings wrap around his body. It wasn’t real. The divine cord held him in its power and he was helpless against it. Time warped and he was back there again, in the dungeons. Bound so tight he could barely breathe. No one came back. And he couldn’t move. He was alone, and cold, and not-dead, but not alive either. Trapped in the dark, alone. 

_What will you give?_

The voice filled his mind. He would do anything to be set free. Give anything. 

_Be honored. A beast like you does not deserve my attention._

The shadow moved around him, and he found it possible to move again. There was nowhere to go, or escape to. It was in his mind, it possessed him. 

_Drink._

His mouth felt dry as he picked up the waterskin. Lethe water. He drank it willingly, knowing it would be enough to take him under, to make him helpless. But helpless and unaware was better than the alternative. He drank it all. Everything became dim, and his body felt numb. 

He didn’t know how long the shadowy Lilim possessed him. Time fell away to mean nothing until the presence disappeared and he lay alone on the cold floor. Lania came. She led him out into the common area, and found a mat for him to sleep on. 

When he woke he felt dazed, and sore all over. A sense of dread and revulsion overwhelmed him, he didn’t want to be here any longer. Despite the pounding in his head, he found his clothes, and put them on. Lania tried to coax him to stay, to join the pile of sleeping Lilim near the hearth, even offering him more lethe, but he pulled away and staggered out into the lanes. 

How he found his way back to his dome was a mystery and he couldn’t remember the journey after arriving. He stumbled through the door, fumbled to tie the flap closed and collapsed on his bed roll. For the first time in a long time, his mind was quiet in its exhausted drugged fog. 

And the silence was good.


	9. Why Can't We Just Get Along?

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# Chapter 9 Why Can't We Just Get Along?

****

Maze held her stick of meat over the barracks' hearth, listening to the flesh sizzle. The Lilim around her grumbled. Every day followed the same routine. Wake, eat a breakfast of nearly rotting, low-grade meat. If there was time, a round of dice would get played. After shift they brawled. If the fight was stimulating, they had sex. It wasn’t a bad routine. The camaraderie she found since she'd moved Lucifer out to the dome reminded her of her days spent with hunting parties so long ago. 

The guard work never changed. Maze took the outermost post. It was a position normally reserved for the least experienced of warriors, but she didn’t complain. It was a test, as these things always were. Anilith wanted to humiliate her. The Soverain could try. Mazikeen wasn’t going to take the bait. There was no humiliation in fulfilling a duty, and she wasn’t going to insult her fellow wall-guards by insinuating their work was beneath her. 

At first she’d been wary of spies from the Spire reporting back to Anilith. She’d hurried Lucifer along, dragging him out on the wall with her as soon as the winds died down and staying until the last moment when they picked up. She’d been a fool to think she mattered enough for the Soverain to spare more than a cursory check, and looking back, there were many things she wished she’d done differently. 

It had been too hard on Lucifer. He wasn’t used to the ash the same way Lilim were, but she’d been unwilling to leave him alone so soon after Anilith’s stunt with the tribute. The Soverain could have had plans, and Mazikeen hadn’t been willing to take the risk. But exposing Lucifer to so much ash held its own pitfalls. Even wearing a scarf, the cough he developed sounded too close to ash-lung. 

It didn't matter where they were, though—on the wall or in the barracks—he refused to look at her. He barely spoke to her. She had to order him into the sleeping bunk each night, and once in, he did his best to not touch her. Of course he resented her; she’d lost his trust. She failed to protect him from Anilith's manipulations. She couldn't even protect him from the sleep-wandering terrors. It was no small wonder that he wanted as little to do with her as possible. 

And then there were the other wall-guards. Mazikeen had to give them credit for trying. But Lucifer stubbornly refused to bite back to their overtures of fellowship. Lucifer’s standoffish attitude had only made them try harder and harder to show him they were willing to accept him. 

Removing Lucifer to a dome outside the barracks had been for his own good. The sleep wandering had never been a problem in a dome, and he was out of the ash. Every sleep she spent alone in her bunk, she missed him. Every mentor has a hard time letting the whelp they’ve trained go alone into battle. Lucifer wasn’t a whelp, but similarly, every time she visited the dome, it hit her all over again that Lucifer didn’t need her anymore. 

At least she had her vow to fall back on. No matter how self-sufficient Lucifer was, she was still responsible for him in the eyes of the Spire, and that excused the visits she made to check up on him. Not that he was ever there. The last few times she’d stopped by, the hearth had been cold. How long had it been since she’d actually seen him? Two hands of ashfalls? Three? A few ashfalls had become the norm between, but it had never stretched this long before. She shouldn’t leave him alone so often, but everything was so much simpler in the barracks. 

Every ashfall of guard duty was an exercise in monotony. She had her leather crafting, and it did allow her to focus on the work, but this enforced idleness was a slow death. Collective life dulled Lilim. They weren't meant to live confined within walls. If the guard-chief wasn’t willing to be bribed with finished pieces to keep supplying the raw materials she needed to craft, she'd lose her mind. Work adorned with decorative details were the easiest to trade, and she tried not to resent painstakingly working a battle scene into a belt that would never be worn by a warrior. 

When she finished, she placed the belt into the back compartment of her pack. The guard-chief got the bulk of what she made, but she saved the best pieces for Lucifer. She clenched her fists. She should spend more time in the dilapidated little dome with him. She wanted to be with him, but being around him made her insides ache. She looked at the dome and saw failure and a reason to despair. Much the same as what Lucifer must see when he looked at her.

Lucifer had made the dome his own, despite its dilapidated state. He swept and dusted and cleaned better than she had in her dome. They’d left behind most of the comforts, but Lucifer had cleverly built it back up. He did as good as any Lilim male could be expected. Better, considering he wasn’t even Lilim. 

What did it say about her, when even her guard-mate, Grian, saw more of Lucifer than she did? He’d told her all about it hands of ashfalls ago before he'd been transferred to another barracks. 

_“There’s this thing he does with his thumb and his finger that-”_

_“Will you shut the fuck up about fucking Lucifer?” she growled, again._

_“You should hear the things he’s told me about you!” Grian grinned and then let out a surprised squeak as Mazikeen jumped on top of him._

As a partner Grian didn’t have a lot of skill, but at least he'd stopped talking for as long as she kept him occupied. It burned to think _Grian_ had that connection to Lucifer now that she'd lost it. But, thanks to Grian, she knew Lucifer still frequented The Leviathan's Pit—and he earned coin for his talents there. The coin to be had at the Pit would never amount to much—only throwbacks were allowed to frequent the place—but the loyalty they showed to any they deemed acceptable eased her worry. 

So, when she went to the dome and Lucifer wasn’t there, she knew there was no cause for alarm, even with this long gap.

It felt wrong. All of it. Maze clenched her fists. She didn’t want to stay away. It didn’t have to be like this, did it? Maybe there was a way to fix it? To fix them. She missed his company. She missed the way things had been before. 

And so, she planned for her next free ashfall. She’d let her vow to Anilith interfere with her duty to Lucifer for too long. She was responsible for him, was she not? Whether he liked it or not, she had an obligation to take care of him. It was a good excuse. 

Mazikeen rushed to Lucifer's dome after her last shift before her free ashfall. 

She was going to fix this. This awkwardness between them didn’t have to continue. Even if he wasn’t there, she could do some repairs, wait for him to return. Show him she wasn’t backing off. 

The door flap hung loose. That wasn’t right. Had someone trespassed on their dome? Maze pulled it back slowly, cautious, and entered with her knife in hand. 

But what greeted her was very different than what she’d been expecting. Lucifer lay sprawled on the floor near the bedroll, his body uncovered. Maze crouched at his side, checking for injuries. There were scratches and welts on his skin and small bruises scattered over his body, including around his throat. His skin was cool to the touch. 

“Lucifer?” 

He didn’t stir, and her heart started racing. The only other time she’d felt his skin so cool had been when she claimed him from under the Spire. Dread filled her. What happened? Was he sick? Seriously injured? She rolled him over and placed her hand on his chest, feeling for a heart beat. There it was, steady and strong. Some of the tension within her released. 

But then what had happened to him? 

The hearth was cold. There was no warmth, not even in the ashes. How long had it been out? The moss basket for the fire was nearly empty, but she grabbed a handful and sparked a flame. Perhaps that would help warm him up. 

She shook his shoulder. “Lucifer?” No response. She tapped his face and he moaned, his eyes fluttering open. 

“Maze?” 

“Did someone attack you?” 

He frowned a moment before looking down at his chest. “No.” 

She grabbed a blanket and tossed it over him, but he made a face and pulled it off. 

“You need to warm up,” she said, pushing the blanket at him again, but he batted her arm away as he sat up. 

“It’s too coarse,” he complained. His voice was rough. 

“A cloak then,” and she pulled off her own to drape over him, but he shivered and pushed that off as well. 

“Maze, no, I’m fine.” 

“Fine?” She looked around the dome. She’d been too preoccupied with checking on him to really take it in before now. “You left the door flap untied. There’s ash everywhere. The hearth was cold.” 

“So?” 

“This isn’t like you, Lucifer.” 

“You're never here anymore. How would you know?” 

She paused. He took pride in his dome. “You despise when there’s ash in our dome.” 

He shrugged, sitting before the hearth as the heat of the fire warmed the dome. He kept shivering, but refused to wrap in anything. “I’m tired. I’ll sort it out later.” 

Even the pot had ash and dried porridge in it. The residue was caked in as though it had been left like that for a long time. Did he have any provisions? She got up and checked their supplies. There was a beetle in the ooze fungus jar. And the meat hanging on the wall was far past being edible. “When’s the last time you went to the market?” 

“I’ve been eating elsewhere.” 

“The Leviathan's Pit isn’t your home.” 

He frowned, looked ready to correct her for a moment, and then sighed. “This isn’t either.” 

Mazikeen tensed. “This is my dome, and you belong here with me.” 

He stiffened, his shoulders drawing together, and for a moment she hoped it meant he’d bite back like he used to, but instead he drew in a breath and released the tension without facing her. Besides the bruises and scratches and lost weight, he was pale. Dark circles ringed his eyes, and his curls were lank and unwashed.

He needed food, and there wasn't time to arrange to go to the market and get something better. She wiped the cooking pot as best as she could, rinsed it and poured fresh water from her flask and set it over the fire to boil. There was enough mixed fungus left in various jars for a couple of meals, she dumped everything together in the boiling water. 

Lucifer stirred the water until it grew thick. She set down a couple of bowls and poured out two portions. They sat in silence, eating together. He picked at the food, only eating half his portion before pushing it away. 

"You need to eat more."

He rubbed his stomach and eyed the food warily. "I'm full, Maze." He yawned and shifted to lay down again. What was that smell?

She checked outside, the wind hadn’t risen yet. She gathered up bathing supplies. "Up you get, Lucifer."

He looked from her to the supplies and sighed dramatically, but stood up. "A bath?"

"You reek of wet sandals."

He met her gaze at last and she thought he would argue, but his chin dropped and he acquiesced without a word. She'd been backing off when he reacted like this, but obviously that tactic had failed. He threw on some loose clothing, not bothering with ties or clasps. Even his sandals were sloppy, and she knew by now he was as good at tying them as anyone. "Come with me."

She opened the door flap and held it until he walked through. He stood waiting, still shivering, but fell in a step behind her. At the bathing dome, he took off the few clothes he wore and stepped into the tub. 

Mazikeen diverted the hot water from nearer the source of the spring into the basin he sat in. The shivering slowed, he sighed, and his eyes drifted closed. 

"How long has it been since you bathed?"

"Don't remember," he murmured. 

She picked up a pitcher and dunked it in the hot water, poured it slowly over his hair. She rubbed his scalp with soap, getting the ash out, letting the curls in his hair twist around her fingers. The soap came next, she rubbed it onto the sponge and stroked it over his skin. 

He tensed, breath catching as fine lines appeared around his mouth. 

She stopped, and regarded him closely. She caught his jaw in her hand and raised his chin. “Open your eyes and look at me.” 

He did, blinking slowly. 

She hadn’t forgotten to light a candle. Why was he having trouble steadying his eyes? “What did they give you?” 

“Everything I asked for,” he said tiredly.

She ran a finger over one of the deeper scratches on his chest and he squeezed his eyes shut, both squirming to get away and stimulated by it all at once. She removed her hand and rubbed his arm instead. “Tell me who did this and I’ll—”

“Maze… no.” 

She wanted to hurt those who hurt him, why would he object? Didn’t he trust her to defend him? It took effort to bite back the harsh response on the tip of her tongue. She picked up the sponge again, and continued scrubbing him but with a softer touch. The trick was to get him to talk, bring back some normalcy between them. Then, perhaps, she could get him to tell her who she needed to remind that she was still Mazikeen. “Tell me about the Pit, Lucifer.” 

He smiled to think of it. “The vendor took me the first time…” he started, and Maze listened. He told her all about the vendor, and about the many Lilim who wanted him. How much he enjoyed being there, the interesting features like fangs and tentacles. Oh, the things they could do with tentacles. 

She listened to it all as he told her everything, though much of what he said was jumbled, the pieces not fitting together perfectly. His tone changed to something closer to the terrible night-wanderings he’d had before. “There’s a shadow,” he said. “I can’t get away.” 

He was becoming nonsensical, but at least he wasn’t shivering anymore. The water was gray with ash residue, but he didn’t smell of smoke and sweat anymore. 

“Up, come on. Let's get back.” She dragged him up and he swayed on his feet. She didn’t bother with the chiton and belt, just wrapped a cloak around him and quickly tied the sandals to his feet. He made no protest at being coddled. This reminded her of when she’d first taken care of him after claiming him from the Spire, and she hoped, too, that it reminded him he could trust her. She’d take care of him if he let her. 

It wasn’t far to get back to the dome. The fire in the hearth was still strong. The air was warm. She undressed him and helped him lay on his bedroll beside the fire. He closed his eyes and went to sleep immediately. 

Maze lay down beside him and stroked his hair. She wasn’t sure yet what she was going to do with him, but she had no doubt she was going to have to do something. 

Lucifer slept through the entire wind cycle and well into the next ashfall. Maze worked on making an inventory of the provisions they’d need. Of repairs that needed to be done to the dome to keep it habitable. She didn’t like how the ash blew in under the door flap, nor the draft coming from a crack in the roof. Lucifer should have mentioned the dome needed repairs. Didn’t he even trust her to maintain the upkeep?

It wouldn't be the best breakfast, but she scrounged up what she could from the remaining fungus jars to make a meal. Except the purple jellydiscs. Why did they even have that? Neither of them liked it. 

“Lucifer,” she shook him until he stirred. “I want you to eat now.” 

He sat up sluggishly, yawned, and held out his hand for the bowl. Good start. They ate together in silence, and she set aside the bowls after. 

“Show me your wings, Lucifer.” 

He looked up at her in surprise for a moment, face hardening into grim lines. But he did as she asked. He stood up and rolled his shoulders, and his wings emerged from what seemed to be nowhere. The dome was small, so he kept them flexed close to his back. 

Maze sighed. The brilliant white had dulled to gray. The feathers looked…clumpy, and the spot where he’d extracted the large feather to give Anilith was still only a spine. It had barely grown at all since the last time she’d seen it. She remembered how mangled his wings and feathers had been when she first met him, and then how much worse they were after Anilth was done with him. 

She reached out and trailed a hand along the feathers. “They’re not doing well.” 

He frowned and shrugged his shoulders to hide them away. “I’m fine.” There was anger in his voice.

“You’re not fine. Why can’t you see that?” 

He stared at her, his eyes growing dark before they turned red. “And you know what’s best for me, is that it?” 

She snorted. “I’m responsible for taking care of you.” 

“I can take care of myself. I’m not helpless.” 

She gestured around the dome. “Really? Does this look capable to you?” 

“What do you care?” 

“It’s my duty. You’re mine to safeguard.” 

“I haven’t forgotten,” he responded, voice tight. 

“Then let me take care of you.” Didn’t he see that she wanted to help him? That he could still trust her, despite her failure to protect him at the Spire.

“I don’t want you here because it’s your duty. I don’t need a _handler_.” 

_Handler?_ That's all he thought of her as? Blood rushed in her ears, her vision became narrow. She grabbed his wrist and spun him around to face her. “You think I treat you like I’m your handler? I could, if that’s what you want.” 

“And do what? Are you going to lock me in _your_ dome so I can’t leave?" His voice rose in volume, in anger. "Are you going to bind me so I can’t escape?” 

“I should.” She tightened her grasp on his wrist.

Flames licked his body, turning his skin scarred and pitted. She didn’t let go. They stared each other down, neither willing to be the first to look away. 

They could have stayed like that for much longer, but Lucifer’s skin changed again, smoothing out, fitting back into the glamour. Mazikeen released him. 

He stood his ground, facing her head on. No more looking down or controlling his voice. This was the fire in him Maze had longed for. But she needed to take back control first. He was hers, and she wasn't going to let anyone take him from her, not even him. “No more going to the Pit.” 

He glared. 

“You’re to stay here. I’ll go to the market and replenish our supplies.”

“No.” 

Maze clenched her jaw. “No?” 

He nodded. “No. I’m not going to be your prisoner.” 

“I’ve never treated you like a prisoner.” 

“What’s this then?” 

“Look around you. Look at yourself. I’m doing my job.” 

He had the audacity to look smug as he said, “As my handler.” 

“You stubborn slug drizzle.” The anger within her felt so overwhelming she was surprised she wasn’t shaking. “After everything I’ve done for you… Do as I say, Lucifer.” 

“I won’t.” He over-enunciated it, emphasizing the way he knew annoyed her from the months he'd spent around the whelps. His skin remained smooth but his eyes were bright red. 

She stood up and went to her belongings, reaching deep into her bag. If he thought she treated him like a handler would, then why shouldn’t she? Apparently nothing they’d gone through together meant _anything_ to him. So what was stopping her?

At the bottom was the binding cord. She could feel the power emanating from it. She could tie one end around his wrist, the other secure to the dome. Lucifer would have no choice but to remain. The cord’s magic would work against him, hold him for as long as she wanted it to. 

She looked back at him watching her. 

And she let go of the cord. 

"This is wrong, Lucifer,” she sighed and turned around. This had already escalated out of control. She needed to stop before she did something she couldn’t undo. 

He turned away from her. 

Mazikeen reached for Lucifer’s shoulder, but pulled her hand back before touching him. Anger flooded through her. Anger at him, at Anilith, at herself, she wanted to shake him until everything was back to the way it used to be. But force had never solved anything with Lucifer, and that was all she had in her right now. Leaving was the best thing she could do for both of them.

Maybe he was right. She needed to back off, give him some space. She knew he had friends at the Leviathan’s Pit. Maybe he’d turn to one of them for help.

"I don't know how to fix this. I'm not sure it can be fixed," she muttered to herself and ducked through the dome. She tied the flap securely and stalked away. 

Several of the guards greeted her when she returned. Quizzical looks were exchanged, but no words said. Everyone knew it was better to gossip and speculate in secret than to ask questions in the open. She strode directly to the resident commons. A group of five lilim guards sat around betting on a dice game. She growled low in her throat and they turned to her. A grim smile parted her lips and she bared her teeth. They grinned back, standing up, ready. 

This was what she needed. At her first blow to her fellow wall guard landed and he staggered back, spitting blood and laughing, she finally felt some of the tension ease from her shoulders. 

She’d figure things out. She could go back after this, find out what Lucifer needed, fix it. 

And yet she didn’t. Even after the bloody fight, and joining in after for another round of dice, she was no closer to knowing what to do than she had been before.


	10. Crash Landing

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# Chapter 10 Crash Landing

****

_This is wrong Lucifer. I don’t know how to fix it._

Her words echoed through his head. There was no escaping them. They were inside him. His body ached and his head hurt. He needed more lethe, but thinking about Lania's Den made his stomach threaten to rebel. He couldn't remember what happened, but he _hurt_ and his wings shivered in his psyche. Maze's request… _Cold. Dark. Gold._

He woke on the floor. Shivering. Curled in on himself with his arms wrapped tight around his chest. Light from the ash cloud filtered through the crack in the roof and the ill-fitting door flap. He was in the dome. He was in the dome. He grabbed a candle and lit it, though his hands shook so much that he dropped the candle again and again. 

_This is wrong Lucifer. I don’t know how to fix it._

The headache spiked with the light and he covered his eyes. The voice taunted him relentlessly. Why did he say those things to Maze? He accused her of keeping him prisoner and being his _handler_. He knew she hated that. _Ash._ The ash inside bothered her. If he cleaned and fixed the problems. Bought the dead flesh that she liked, then he could make it up to her. 

He cleaned up the dome. He even fixed the door flap so ash wouldn't blow in so badly. The dome looked as it should now. As she expected it to.

_It's not the dome she thinks is broken._

When he opened the coin jar he'd last been filling, only a handful remained. Had he spent it all on lethe? How? His goal was to help Maze. Fix his mistake, and he took it without thinking. The rest? Had he spent it, too? The other jars he'd hidden in the back corner. He dug them out, tossing baskets to the floor and shoving jars across the shelf. One. Two. Three. Still full. He slid down the wall shaking. The room looked worse than it had before he cleaned. He failed at everything. Ruined everything he touched. 

The market supplies still had to be bought. He took the remaining coin from the jar he'd wasted and braved the brightness to go to the market. The noise and light amplified every bad sensation in his body. By the time he staggered back to the dome, the need for lethe to ease the physical pain and quiet the voices was overwhelming, but he needed to wait for Maze. Needed to show her that he didn't believe those things he'd said. 

She didn't return before windrise. 

Why would she?

_You’re wrong, Lucifer. I don’t want to fix it._

Was that what she said? It was what she meant, wasn’t it? He shivered and pressed his hands over his ears, but these voices weren’t external. There was no blocking them out. The only thing that stopped them was the lethe. He needed it. 

_At least you’ve found one thing you’re good at._

It didn't matter. It didn't matter what he fixed. It didn't matter how he tried to follow the rules. He'd failed. Failed in his Father's court. Failed in the Spire. Failed to gather coin. Failed in doing the simplest things Maze had asked of him. 

And she left. 

_She won't come back because she can’t stand to be around you anymore. You took everything from her. Traded for what? Nothing._

He needed to go back to the Lania’s Den. Lethe allowed his thoughts to go quiet when nothing else worked. 

_This is what you deserve. You were meant to be discarded. To burn. You poison everything._

He was alone in the dome with his memories and voices. The winds calmed and Lucifer lay on the floor, unable to escape the torment if he tried. His limbs refused his commands, and he was too wracked with pain to do more than breathe. Every breath that expanded his ribs hurt, as if his bones cracked and broke with each inhale. His heartbeat, thudding wildly in his chest like a hammer, reverberated through his entire body, and the voices and images relentlessly assaulted his mind. His failures, the torments of the Spire, and the fall paraded before him on an endless repeat, merging together into a riotous nonsensical mass in his mind. 

_He burned. Flames melting away his body as Maze's voice told him: You’re wrong, Lucifer. I don’t want to fix it._

She was done with him. It was what he deserved. 

_He couldn't breathe. Gold flecks in the darkness. Golden eyes and laughter. You called her your handler. How could you do that?_

It wouldn’t stop. His skin rippled as red and pale chased each other and he tried to hold on. She wasn't coming back. Why would she? After everything he'd done and said it was no wonder she couldn't stand to sleep in the same dome. 

_You’re wrong, Lucifer. I don’t want to fix it._

The pain eased enough that he could move again. What right did he have to stay? He'd taken her freedom and her dignity. He couldn't give those back, but he could give her dome back. He could be like the other thralls at Lania’s Den, take the drug until he lost himself completely. 

He put on his chiton and pinned it at the shoulder, cinched a piece of scrap leather around it and put on his sandals. He stopped just inside the door. Her talisman pouch. He couldn't leave with it hidden away behind the provisions. 

_Why didn’t you give it back long ago?_

"She didn't want to talk about it!" he shouted at the voice.

_You kept trying though, didn't you? Kept hurting her._

_Why don’t you ever listen?_

The small jar was hidden within his basket, he pulled it out and wiped the grime of ash off the top of it. He knelt on the bedroll. It seemed so long ago that Maze had sat beside the fire in the grand dome that she deserved and spread the contents of her pouch to tell him the stories that were inside. She’d told him of her loyal warg companion. She'd looked at the fang with such reverence… 

He rolled his shoulders and his wings unfurled with a soft rustle. If he moved them gently enough, they wouldn't shed ash. He bent his left wing forward and searched through the small, downy feathers. He chose carefully. His wings needed to be cleaned and groomed, but he found one that still gleamed white with divinity. It pulled free with far less effort than the primary. He banished his wings and wiped the drop of blood from the shaft. 

He didn't touch the contents of the pouch when he opened it. He didn't have the right to disturb her prizes. The feather drifted softly inside to take its place among her treasured items. The coin jars tempted him. How much more lethe could he buy with that? But no. He'd earned that coin for Maze. What was left was less than he'd had, but it still might help her. It wouldn't help him. The Den would consume it as surely as it had the first jar. He placed the talisman pouch with the jars in front of his basket. Maze would see it. 

He wouldn't be returning. 

Perhaps someday she could think of him as fondly as she did the warg. 

_You are an idiot to think she’ll care after everything you’ve done._

He walked the lanes without full awareness, one thought on his mind, focused on the place he needed to go. He wanted to forget everything. Forget he’d ever existed. He wanted to silence the voices that assailed him in the quiet of the dome. Sink into oblivion instead of fire when he slept. Vaguely he remembered being stopped by the other Lilim, the slender ones. Fraq and the others tried to distract him. To turn him away from where he wanted to go. 

_Someone is doing bad things to you. I’ve already lost one friend to lethe, I don’t want to lose another._

He pushed Fraq away and stumbled, and when he got back on his feet, there was no one around. Had she been there at all? 

Had he really seen them? On more than one occasion he thought he saw Fraq out of the corner of his eye, but everything felt confused and out of focus. Maybe he hadn’t seen her at all.

At the door of the Den, Lania greeted him and led him inside. "You're a pathetic sight. Do you have coin?"

Lucifer shook his head, the movement sending spikes through his head again. He stumbled, and she held him upright. 

"I suppose I'll have to give you a little or you'll be worth nothing." She drew him close to the hearth and made him sit on the cushions with the thralls. A couple of the more aware ones greeted him. Lania returned. The promise of getting lost in a drugged haze came with her and he licked at the powder on her finger. It felt good. It always felt good, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted to forget. To lose himself completely he needed more. 

His suffering eased enough that he stopped trembling and the pain receded. Lania gave him food and drink and ensured that he consumed them. 

"I like you, Lucifer, so I'll take care of you this one ashfall. Get a bath and then I'll send you something easy to earn your keep." 

The coupling was pleasant, took place in the main room, and only required that he lay pliant for the patrons. After, Lania settled him by the hearth and gave him enough lethe that he floated away, the voices gloriously silent. 

Time felt disconnected as he lay with the thralls. That was all he was now, wasn’t it? 

When Lania crouched by his side, he didn’t bother making the effort of looking at her. “This isn’t what I wanted for you,” she whispered. “She’s coming back. I’ll turn away, no one will stop you if you leave. Lucifer.” She placed a hand on his arm. “Do you hear me?” 

He didn't answer. She stood, and walked away. 

_She._ Lania meant the shadow. Disgust and shame rippled through him. _He’d let her…and he could still feel her worming her way into his mind._ It was his own fault. He hadn’t fought hard enough. _He’d let her._

He stayed where he was. Lania returned. She kicked at his leg. “That’s it then?” She crouched down again. He opened his mouth when she stroked his lips, gave him more of the precious lethe. 

His gaze did turn to her then. Lucifer hadn’t asked for another dose, but he was thankful for it. It cleared his head and eased the ache in his limbs. Lania looked down on him. “Time to go.” Yes. He could already feel the presence of the one with power near-by. 

Lucifer got up on his own and Lania held his arm to help steady him. He walked on his own to the private room, fully aware of what would be waiting inside. But there would also be the lethe-water and that drove him forward. He longed for the oblivion it offered. 

He entered the room and closed the door behind him. 

Though the attack was expected, the suddenness of it hit him, stealing his breath. He jolted against the intrusion on his mind, desperate for air. This time he offered no resistance. How many times had she come for him now? Memories bound him, wrapped him tight. He let it. The less he fought, the sooner it would be over with. His limbs felt heavy, too lethargic to even gasp in air when she eased the pressure. 

_Drink._

The flask was there, and he reached for it. He didn’t need to be told to drink it all. The lethe felt cool and sweet on his tongue, comforting as it spread through his body.

He saw things that he thought were there, but couldn’t be. A flash of light, his sister who had fought at his side, who he hadn’t seen since their defeat. He’d seen none of them after being dragged away to await His judgement. 

It was worth it to forget the true nature of his changed appearance, to forget the procession through the Silver City. Forget the taunts and insults his siblings had called out as they reviled and disowned him. Forget the look on his mother’s face just before she turned away from him. Forget the torment of burning in the fiery lake. To forget the confinement and the torture of his wings. 

He deserved to burn. Maze shouldn’t have pulled him out of the fire. _Or maybe she never did, and he burned and burned and burned._

Awareness returned as something cool touched his cheek. What was soothing at first turned to agony, the pressure on his skin ached, burned, froze all at once and he tried to pull away. 

“Shh. I’ll get you out. Shit. How much did she give you?” 

_“Lan—Lania—”_

“Yes. It’s me. Hold still. I’m getting you out of these.” She released the straps he hadn’t realised he’d been bound in and he drew his arms and legs in, curling in on himself. Shivering. It was so cold. Something covered his body. His skin felt like tiny knives stabbing already without this itchy, heavy thing. He pushed it off. 

“Let's get you to the hearth and hope you can sleep this off.” 

All he knew was that when she touched him it hurt. Everything ached. And he was still spinning, still falling. _“Stop. Make it stop.”_

“I can’t,” Lania answered. “Sleep. And then we’ll assess how bad off you are.” Hands grabbed, lifted. Lucifer twisted, trying to resist, but there was no coordination to it. A cushion appeared below him, and the warmth of the hearth soothed. Liquid was held to his mouth. It wasn’t lethe, and he let it spill. He didn’t even try to swallow it down to ease his thirst. 

They left him alone after that. To sleep. To be lost. He was already lost.

But there was something…something he needed. To find? It took several tries, but he made it to his feet. Somewhere he needed to go? 

The door. There. It was cold. He shivered and couldn't stop. His mind spun and he couldn't keep his balance. He didn’t know where he was going. Or why. Ash fell all around him, swirling in the air, carried on the wind. It fell on his bare skin. The stones under his feet cut and stung. His chest ached and it was hard to breathe. 

Why was he alone? Lucifer stumbled and fell, rolled onto his back and stared at the above, the great swirling ever present ash cloud. Never stars. Never anything. He blinked at the ash drifting down into his eyes. Everything ached, everything felt too sensitive. When had he left the Den? He didn’t remember. He remembered…being held down. And then…nothing. Nothing was where he wanted to go back to, because there was nowhere else left to go — 

The wind became strong, and he couldn’t see, and he couldn’t breathe… Instinct had him finding a place out of the wind, or at least with less wind. He needed shelter. His wings. He released his wings and they wrapped around him— 

Someone crouched near him, a hand brushed across his face. Lucifer hoped it would offer more of the forgetting powder, but there was nothing. He felt something grasp his wrists and ankles, lifting, pulling, dragging— 

And then all was dark.


	11. Maze Finds the Pouch

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# Chapter 11 Maze Finds the Pouch

****

Maze stood on the wall. The view was the same as it was ashfall after ashfall. Her mind should be as empty as the view in front of her. It swirled and clogged like an ash storm. She couldn't even concentrate on leatherworking.

The way she’d left things with Lucifer felt like poison in her gut. But leaving had been the only thing she could do.

How dare he call her his _handler_? Handlers were in charge of beasts. Tiraq had been a handler. Maze didn't have a word for what she was to Lucifer. But it wasn't _that_. 

And saying that all the sulking and cringing and refusal to look at her was _her_ fault? 

Her fists clenched. She needed to pummel something. Break something. Fuck until she couldn't walk straight. Something to work out this energy. How much worse could it have gotten if she’d stayed in the dome and continued arguing with him? 

She would have used the binding cord, and the thought slithered through her like a pit slug. She didn't dare go back now. It wouldn't take much to push her over the edge, and he'd be the thing she worked this poison out on. Would she really use that cord on him, after any amount of goading on his part? Would she risk losing his trust irrevocably? Yet, thinking about him made her want to bash him in the face. 

A moment from their past came unbidden to her mind, back when Lucifer was still learning to speak and recovering from being imprisoned in the Spire...

She closed her eyes. Right from the start he’d craved physical contact. He had pressed up against her in the dark of the shelter after pulling him from the fiery lake. The memory of waking up as he caressed her hair. Why did she have to think about this now?

How could he have so much faith in her?

She couldn't go back to the dome. Not until this anger had passed. He had trusted her then. He'd called her good when his feathers started coming back in. She couldn't storm in, fists flying like she would with a Lilim. He wasn't Lilim and living-angels…were frustrating, infuriating, stubborn, ignorant, delicate, troublesome beasts that understood everything wrong. But he was _her_ living-angel, and she wasn't going back until she no longer risked ruining everything. 

One ashfall became a hand of them and it became easier to continue her duties than to think about Lucifer and the fight it would take to rein him back in. One hand turned into two and then three, and still she avoided going back. It wasn't until her supervisor reminded her that the next ashfall would be her allotted free time that she realized how much time had passed. Her last encounter with Lucifer no longer brought seething anger, but cold dread and regret. How many times had she told Lucifer to just keep his head down. To keep quiet. To stop sleep wandering and waking up the other guards. The fire was still in him. She'd seen it when he shouted. She remembered all the times she hadn't seen it. All the times she'd thought he was going to move, but stood passive.

Too often, other Lilim compared Lucifer to a beast. That's all any of them thought he was at first, but Maze had known better almost as soon as she’d started interacting with him. He wasn’t like Lilim either, though. Sometimes she was tempted to think of him as she would a fresh whelp newly assigned to the warrior cast. Lucifer could barely be compared to one of those. Before the debacle with Anilith, he'd demonstrated some of the appropriate insolence and offensiveness the young warriors were praised for, but she'd known it was a thin veneer of bravado. No Lilim, least of all a whelp, would ever suffer in silence the way he did. 

It wasn’t a weakness in Lucifer, was it? Stoicism was an alien concept, but it took strength of a kind to not bash your enemies in the face. She'd seen him wield a sword. What if the otherness of the angel could be due to his own experiences and training before landing in the fiery lake.

She’d left him without provisions or trade items for four hands of ashfalls. It wasn't only his companions who hadn't been feeding him correctly. She'd seen the thin porridge he made for himself. The tiny fires he started before looking her way and adding more hearth moss. He'd said it was enough, and she hadn't pushed him. Enough what? To stay alive? To thrive? When had he learned to avoid answering like that? She'd go to the market after her shift. There'd be enough time to go to the market and get what was needed and make it back. There’d even be time to make it back to the wall after if her anger began to flare again. 

It was a good plan. She decided to go to the dome first and check what she needed to buy. Maybe she could ask Lucifer if he wanted some thistles. Or she could bring it back as a treat, just because. Or maybe he’d want to come to the market with her. He’d always liked going on outings. 

The dome was quiet, a large drift of ash built up against the door flap. She brushed it aside with her foot, and untied the straps holding the door in place and entered.

“Lucifer?”

Empty. 

It was clean, now. The food storage jars were full. A chunk of meat hung on the wall… Not fresh, withered away to almost nothing. She tossed it out into the lane. The hearth was cold again. Well, it wasn’t like she’d expected him to sit around waiting for her to return. How long had he been gone? It took more than a few winds to build ash up in a drift like the one she found outside the door. 

Part of her, a large part, wanted to go straight to the Pit and drag him back home. How dare he? But. What would that accomplish? Would it drive him further away? She had to wait. Be patient. There was no point in returning to the wall before the winds rose, so she lit the hearth, and set some water to boil and settled in. 

The porridge was made, she set enough aside for Lucifer if he did come back home before the winds got too strong. The heat of the hearth and the quiet lulled her into an uneasy sleep. She was still alone later when she woke to the winds howling outside. 

She sat up, unable to sleep any longer. The tiny dome had a single case with three shelves for storage. She made a habit of checking Lucifer's hearth moss and porridge jars, but she hadn't done a thorough inventory since shortly after she'd moved him here. His assurances that he'd had enough coin to buy what he'd _needed_ had been easy enough to believe. He didn't lie. But as she began opening jars she realized that she'd allowed him to define the word 'need' without clarifying exactly what that entailed. The baskets and jars on the top shelf were all empty.

The smallest jars on this shelf, easily contained in her fist, were for seasonings to make the bland fungus porridges palatable. They were all empty. The next shelf was the same. Two jars of porridge powder were full. He'd gone to the market after their fight, but the dust on them told her that he hadn't touched them in a long time. A sense of dread settled on her. _How long had he been gone_?

The winds were still blowing, so she continued searching the shelf. The backup hearth moss basket she'd assumed was full, was not. 

Was there any point in continuing? She kicked his basket and the jars in front of it tumbled over, one of them cracking. The sound of metal clinking together stopped her. _Coin_. She knelt. The broken jar had been full of coin. Where had Lucifer gotten so much? She checked the other two jars. Also full of coin. She glanced back up at the bare shelves. He had abundant coin, why would he buy so few supplies? She brushed her hand over the spilled coin. Something else lay underneath. 

Her pouch. The one she gave Anilith for Tribute. But how? Had someone from the Spire returned it without her knowing? Who would do such a thing? 

She loosened the string and emptied the contents. All the special items she’d thought lost. The warg tooth…

And, she felt a pull. Something else, something with power. Everything she'd put in the pouch was dumped in front of her. What could still be inside? She pushed her fingers through the small opening, brushed across something soft stuck to the leather, and drew it out. Her heart pounded wildly in her chest. A feather. Resting on her palm, the small feather shimmered with its own light. 

Lucifer got the pouch for her? When? Why would he do this? If the winds were not blowing she would go searching for him. Demand answers. Had he tried to tell her? He'd begun several times, "Maze, when we were called to the Spire—" and that was as far as he'd ever gotten. He had sulked with an intensity she couldn't bear every time she stopped him, but she also couldn't bear to hear him talk about trust and being forced to take his own feather. She remembered how he'd described having them removed——and she couldn't bear to think about her failure to stop it. She'd promised him it wouldn't happen! 

No one stole from Anilith. 

No whelp would ever dare. No warrior would be so foolhardy. How had _Lucifer_ gotten into the Spire to claim this for her? Or had he taken it that ashfall? She thought back to where all the pieces had been in the chamber. He had been kneeling… Yes. Very close to where Anilith had thrown the pouch. Maze smiled. If anyone knew about his bravery in stealing this… Had he known the full import of what he'd done? She laughed. He'd known enough to keep it hidden all this time. She secured it to her belt. 

It was time for the rest of the Collective to know that Anilith had lost a prize. The gossip was clear that Mazikeen had offered her trophy pouch and Anilith had still gotten a feather out of her. The gossip bragged of how wily and great a leader Anilith was to get so much tribute from a daughter of Lilith. No more. It was time to show that Anilith couldn't hold on to the prizes she took. 

When the winds died, she was going to go find Lucifer at the Leviathan’s Pit. She didn't care what protests he had in store for her. She caressed the tiny feather, and it glowed so brightly that she had to squint her eyes. It dimmed again when she dropped it into the pouch. He'd shared a piece of himself. He couldn't have given her a more intimate gesture of what he felt for her. 

And yet, doubt surged within her. Had he done so to tell her again that he thought of her as his handler? That she only desired his feathers? She shook her head. This feather was useless for practical applications. Too small to hold enough divinity to grow anything, too fluffy to make a blade, this was a sentimental gift. The way he had stared at her with reverence as she told him the stories of the items… He wanted to be remembered. 

Had he meant the gift as a goodbye? She didn't believe he could fly; not with his wings so grey and clumpy and the still missing large feather would interfere, wouldn't it? She didn't really understand how all those feathers were supposed to work to let him fly, but it seemed like they ought to each be important. 

The winds slowed. Mazikeen ate her porridge and dressed in her armor and boots. He could come home on his own, but she'd given him enough space. The withered meat and pile of ash already concerned her. What he'd left behind scared her. What if he had attempted to fly away despite the pitiful state of his wings? The image of him lying broken at the bottom of the wall for scavengers flashed before her mind. _No._ There were other possibilities she could explore. He'd spent nearly all his time at the Leviathan Pit before the fight. That's where she'd look for him first.

She left the little dome and marched through the lanes. She only had one ashfall free from her duty, and they clearly needed a staggering amount of work. If he needed her, duty be damned. Her vow to Anilith said that no one, not even the Soverain could interfere with her caring for the living-angel. The bare shelves alone said that she'd allowed her wall duty to interfere. She turned onto a new lane, entering the throwback quarter, when she heard sandaled feet slapping the stones in the lane behind her. 

Her view of the pursuer was blocked by domes. She gripped the handle of her blades, ready for anything, but what self-respecting Lilim would make such a clatter? She expected to see Lucifer round the corner, although she'd never known him to lack grace like this.

"Mazikeen?" She knew that high pitched voice. It was Squee, the tiny male nest minder. 

"What do you want?" she asked as he skidded to a stop in front of her.

"You need to come to nest," he said, panting.

She loomed over him. "And why would I do that?"

"It's your angel whelp. We think he's dying!"

Cold washed over her. _Dying?_ She motioned him to lead the way. 

He took off in his noisy, awkward run.

"How did _you_ end up with him?"

"I check on whelps when winds die down. Young ones need help sometimes. Found your living-angel in an alcove. Out for the whole wind cycle, it looks like. No clothes. Hurt. Dromos says it's bad, very bad. Says I should have brought him to you. We don't want to end up like Tiraq." He puffed, out of breath. 

Mazikeen gave him a shove. Pathetic little lump. "Move faster, then."


	12. Ashlung

****

# Chapter 12 Ashlung

****

Mazikeen followed the annoying little male into the nest. She grimaced. The smell down here was different. _Spawn_ smell. Sprog scent underneath it. She shuddered. Never had she willingly entered a nest before. It was beneath her dignity. She had a fondness for whelps, with their attitude and shameless guile; the way they would clamor for attention and seek affection if you had won their respect. She shook her head. No one was supposed to know that she had a soft spot for the little monsters. But spawn, and especially sprogs, were different!

Squee led her through a labyrinth of passageways at a jog. Past rooms full of screeching and mewling tiny Lilim. Past store rooms; she could smell many of Lucifer's favorite foods as she passed them. Down into the sprog rooms at the deepest level of the nest caverns. It was very dark down here. Only the faintest glow from the rocks lit the halls and chambers. Lucifer would be utterly blind. 

Finally Squee stopped in front of a room with a leather door flap tied over it. She nodded, approving their decision to not lock him in. She untied the straps and stepped inside, leaving the flap loose. Squee could tie it back if he wanted.

Dromos was a massive Lilim. Her head barely reached his lower ribs and his breadth was easily three of hers. He was her much younger brother, and she remembered when he was a spawn. So large and fearsome looking...and so utterly useless as a hunter. He could be fierce when roused, and his sheer size gave most pause, but he was far too placid to make it as a warrior. He'd ever been drawn to caring for the tiniest sprogs and spawn. Patient with them in a way that made Mazikeen nauseous. Someone had to ensure the growth of Lilim-kind, she supposed. 

He turned his great shaggy head toward her, half his face covered in a beard, the other half warped and deformed like hers. Lucifer lay naked on Dromos’ lap; face down, arms and head draped over one of Dromos' massive arms, his wings hung limp, gray and caked with ash. 

"Mazikeen! I've gotten some of the ash out of him, but he's weak. He can only handle a little coughing at a time. It’s going to take a while for him to recover—if he makes it that long." Dromos punctuated his words by clapping Lucifer on the upper back several times between the wing joints. 

She wanted to do something, needed to help, but what? Standing here helpless wasn’t going to solve anything. "What happened? Has he been awake?" 

"No. Looks like he spent the wind without shelter and used his wings as cover. It’s a wonder he’s breathing at all." Dromos rolled Lucifer over and tipped him until his head was angled down, then smacked the front of his chest. Mazikeen watched, hands curled in helpless fists as Dromos continued shifting Lucifer and smacking his chest until finally, a weak cough escaped. It built until Lucifer was coughing up black phlegm. Lucifer gasped and shook, unable to draw in effective breaths. 

Dromos took a cup of gully wasp nectar and fed sips of it to Lucifer until the coughing stopped. He held him propped upright until Lucifer's color improved, before placing him on a padded mat at his side. Lucifer lay shivering and wheezing, wings flexed tightly against his back as he curled in on himself. 

"I’ll tend to him from here." 

Dromos looked down at her, and then leaned over and sniffed at Lucifer's breath, and then pointedly back at her. "I may be a lowly nest minder but I know the smell of lethe when I encounter it. What were you thinking Mazikeen? Did you need to cripple his will to control him? He’s barely more than a spawn."

Mazikeen leaned forward, and made a sour face as she smelled the same thing Dromos had. "He wouldn't." 

Dromos narrowed his eyes at her and grumbled deep in his chest. "It wasn't you giving it to him?" 

She growled and reached for Lucifer's arm. "Of course it wasn't me. I've been keeping him alive, restoring him. Not… this."

Dromos roughly dragged Lucifer out of her reach, and pushed the angel behind him. "Not doing so good a job at handling your charge, are you? You’ll be lucky if he’s not beyond mending." 

"You dare—" 

"When have you ever taken care of anything other than yourself?" 

"I helped raise you, didn't I?"

Dromos kept his massive body between them. "That was a long time ago, Mazikeen, and from what I recall you left me to Varun so you could go hunt. You don't let _spawn_ out of the nest! You keep an eye on the youngling whelps!”

“He’s not a spawn!” Mazikeen protested. 

Dromos snorted in response. “Squee told me this angel whelp didn't know how to tie sandals when he found him wandering in the marketplace a sprog cycle ago. You know how the lethe dealers are. What they do to whelps on it!"

From behind Dromos, Lucifer groaned and blindly reached out. 

Mazikeen swallowed heavily. She hadn't recognized the symptoms. The scent had been masked under the reek of sex and hair-moss. And...she hadn’t been paying attention. She’d been too wrapped up in her own misery.

"You really didn't know?" Dromos' voice dropped to a softer tone.

"Why would I suspect lethe? You know how rare it is."

Dromos sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. "It's not rare anymore. We've lost a hand of whelps to it in the last few sprog cycles. The potential of many fine warriors lost. They might make it as gatherers now."

Lucifer shifted and cried out, drawing their attention back to him. Mazikeen shoved Dromos to the side with an angry huff, and this time, he didn't resist. "Bring candles."

"Best to keep them in the dark. When it gets this bad, they get light sensitive."

"No. He's dark-blind. His eyes don't work like ours."

Dromos put his giant hand on her shoulder. "They go blind exposed to light, Mazikeen. He's your angel. If you want to take the risk, I'll send for candles."

Mazikeen looked at Lucifer shivering on the floor. “Just one. He needs light.” 

"You don’t need to stay,” Dromos reminded her again. “We've handled this many times. We will care for him as well as we would a Lilim whelp."

"I want you out. I will care for him.”

The wheezing coming from Lucifer grew more labored. "Have you ever cared for someone with ash-lung?"

Mazikeen knew Dromos had won this, but she wasn't ready to admit yet. "What of it."

He scooped Lucifer up in his oversized paws, holding him upright, and the breath sounds evened out. 

"He needs me," Mazikeen insisted. 

"Stay with him then." Dromos fixed her with a glare. "The withdrawal is torture. Every sensation is magnified. Their minds are too muddled to cope. You understand, even if he survives, he’ll likely never be as he once was?"

Mazikeen shook her head. "Not Lucifer. He'll survive and he'll recover."

"Then settle in. It'll be hands of ashfalls before we know for sure." Dromos shook his head. "Squee! Fetch a candle."

"Going, going, going."

Lucifer reached out as Mazikeen crouched beside him. "You've had a chance to inspect him. Is he injured?"

"Other than the ash-lung, nothing visibly life-threatening."

“After Squee returns I want you out. I will care for him.” 

“Mazikeen—” 

She stood up and faced him, and though Dromos was larger, she knew he feared her. She waited for Squee to return with a candle. He lit it and placed it on the wall bracket on the other side of the room. 

Lucifer stirred, eyes opening in a squint and then roaming the room until he locked on Maze. 

“Leave us,” Mazikeen ordered Dromos again.

The larger Lilim grumbled, but complied. He and Squee left. 

Mazikeen moved Lucifer back onto the bedroll and then sat cross-legged beside him. She’d done the right thing, hadn’t she? Now that she was faced with Lucifer on her own, the reality of his condition struck her anew. Dromos was right, she didn’t know what she was doing. She wasn’t the one who regrew Lucifer’s wing feathers, he’d done that on his own. All she’d done was provide food and shelter. 

She’d thought she was doing the right thing by letting him fend for himself while she worked guarding the wall. He hadn’t wanted her around. Wasn’t teaching whelps to survive independently the main purpose of sending them out of the nest? She brushed her fingers through Lucifer’s hair. Ash coated his scalp and tinted his hair grey. She curled her finger around one of the curls and sighed. She kept forgetting he wasn’t Lilim. He was strange to this world, and though he acted like a whelp sometimes, he wasn’t one. He would never be Lilim.

Lucifer moaned again, seeking her hand. Maze let him, hoping it was a sign he was regaining consciousness, but instead, he pulled her finger up to his mouth. She tore her hand away, and he moaned again, scrabbling, reaching. He licked his lips and keened. 

He babbled. Half-formed sounds that almost sounded like a word at times. She didn't have to understand to recognise it for what it was.

Begging for more lethe.

She pushed him back down, not gently. Disgust filled her. They had used him. She was going to hunt down whoever gave lethe to him and rip their limbs off… slowly... and then leave them outside the wall to be feasted upon alive by carrion. The last time he’d been badly used she’d left the Lilim at fault with a strong warning beaten and carved into their hides. This time she wouldn’t be so kind. 

Lucifer's wheezing breath picked up speed. His eyes snapped open. They fixed on an empty corner. Wide. Afraid. He began babbling in his angel calls. Again, she didn't need to understand words to understand his tone. He was terrified of whatever visions he saw there. But there was nothing. 

"Lucifer." She squeezed his shoulder when he didn't respond. 

His face scrunched up and he hissed in a pained breath. His focus was back on her, but his hands reached for hers and he licked his dry lips. 

She examined him, looking for clues, she could use to find the people she needed to kill. Though Dromos had said he had no life threatening injuries, something bad had happened to him. The dark circles around Lucifer’s eyes she'd seen last time were more pronounced. She brushed her finger over his throat. Bruises in the shape of fingerprints and narrow lines overlapped and criss-crossed over and around his neck. Moving down his body, she found welts and bruises, lashmarks, deep scratches, bites, even small burns. His wrists and ankles were bruised and rubbed raw from restraints. 

It was easy to surmise whoever did this had been the one to give him the lethe—far too much lethe. With this much drug in his system she doubted he’d have been able to understand anything beyond pain. 

Dromos returned and brought cleaning and bandaging supplies. Holding Lucifer down while he writhed in agony, too breathless to scream, as Dromos cleaned the ash from the open sores imprinted itself deeply in her mind. It haunted her. They had to keep treating him for the ash no matter how he cried out in pain at even the lightest touches, and every time added to her desire to kill those responsible.

To treat the ash-lung, Dromos thumped Lucifer’s chest and back several times an ashfall, causing him to cough until his eyes watered; until he choked up black phlegm. 

The third ashfall, Dromos' growled as he fed Lucifer sips of the nectar to stop his coughing. 

"What?"

"It should be clear by now."

"Can't you hit him more often?"

"I'll try. Too often and he won't cough strong enough. For now his breathing is steady enough to allow him to take medicine to help him rest."

She took the vial and fed it to Lucifer. He took it with more enthusiasm than he had anything else, and he lay quiet for several heartbeats. Then his face screwed up in abject misery and he began babbling—begging—again. The broken sounds came near enough to words at times that she understood them, and they made her hatred of whoever had done this grow until it filled her chest with a nearly uncontainable mass. 

She understood enough to know he wasn't begging her to not hurt him. And not just for more lethe either.   
It was raw and needy and disgusting, but the expressions he wore and sounds he made toward the things that only he could see were worse. He warded himself from imaginary blows. Reached for things that weren't there with such yearning that it hurt her to watch it. 

Dromos ignored it, said most of the whelps were like that. It would pass with the withdrawal. She hated the ones who'd caused this. 

She hated herself for letting it happen. 

It was easy to look back and realise he'd already been suffering lethe addiction when she’d found him in the ash covered dome. She berated herself for missing it. The confusion, lethargy, even the brash anger, but mostly the smell should have told her. Lethe users smelled like wet sandals, but it was exceptionally rare, she’d never considered it as a possibility. 

How could she have been so blind?

She looked at his still ash coated wings. He’d been used and left to die in the wind. 

It would take several ash cycles to get through this. She held him when he let her, gave him space when he grew restless and overcome with visions. He flipped between begging for Lethe in jumbled Lilim sounds and begging the corners and walls, even the ceiling in his angel noises.


	13. Lethe Addled

****

# Chapter 13 Lethe Addled

****

The shivering had gotten worse, Maze tried to sooth Lucifer’s shaking limbs with her own body heat. His skin continued to grow cooler to the touch each ashfall, as though something inside him were dying. 

“Mazikeen, I think it’s time to introduce your angel to the pool.”

“What pool?” 

The nest-minder grunted, staring at the hearth. “There’s a large basin, big enough for ten full grown Lilim. We use it for cleaning spawn when their grime gets too thick. The water flows, hot from the underground spring. It loosens the muck off them and makes them good and tired. We’ve used it on lethe addled when they can’t warm themselves. Works well enough in the short term.” 

“We don’t know Lucifer is damaged—” 

“The cold is on him. It’s not a good sign.”

“How hot is it?” 

“Hot enough. And it’s about time to get some of that ash off. It’s a wonder he’s not got toxic rash yet.” 

It was true, the longer they waited to clean him, the more complications would arise. But his skin thus far had been far too over-stimulated to even make the attempt. “I’ll bring him.” 

She carried Lucifer as Dromos led the way down the tunnel, carrying the dim covered lantern with him. 

“You’ll have to go in with him.” Dromos said. 

Mazikeen rolled her eyes. Did he think she was just going to toss him in and let him sink? She passed her burden to the nestminder, removed her clothes, and jumped in. The heat was a shock to the system, but it felt good. Hot, but not burning. If this didn’t warm Lucifer, she wasn’t sure what could. 

Dromos passed him down, and Maze gripped him awkwardly. If he were Lilim she’d have held him with his back against her front, but the wings got in the way of that, and she held him facing her instead. It would have to do. She found a spot to get comfortable, leaning against the corner so she could support herself and hold him at the same time. 

A gentle current ran through the pool, the hot spring constantly replenishing itself; the dirty water draining to parts unknown. This was much better than the disgusting basins in the bath houses where you sat in your filth to get clean. 

The current of the water gently billowed his wings around her. The water slipped in and around his feathers, the grime sticking to them dissolving, turning the water dark, and then clearing as it drained and was replaced. 

She felt him stir against her, tensing in her arms.

"Lucifer. Are coming back to me?"

"Maze?" His voice was rough and low. His eyes darted around the room. "Are you real?” 

“Yes, I’m real.” 

His arms came up, around her, holding onto her as much as she was holding him. His eyes remained unfocused. And then he started to relax again, his grip around her back loosened. 

“Stay awake, stay with me.”

“I am.” But his grip loosened further until he was lax in her arms again. The gentle motions of the water undulated his wings.

“You were cold,” Maze explained. “Dromos thought water would be a good idea. You’re warmer now. You’re going to be okay.” 

“Water?” he said after a long pause. He lifted his hand as he used to when he'd only been learning to speak.

Her heart clenched. Did he understand anything she was saying?

“Lucifer, I want to wash your wings for you. Can you extend them?” she asked, and waited, but he didn’t respond. She maneuvered him around to prop him up on the edge of the pool. She sighed in relief when he extended them. He did understand. It wasn't just a response to the position. _He wasn't addled._

“You’ve got ash all over you,” she explained and grabbed a handful of sponge-moss. She started brushing it along his plumes, as gently as she could. “You’re feathers were gray with it when Squee brought you in.” 

“Squee?” he echoed. 

“He found you out in the ash at the end of wind. You met him before, remember?” 

Lucifer shook his head tiredly. “No.” 

She went on. He was awake, and it felt better talking to him than not, even if he didn’t understand. “You hate when your wings get ashy. You told me how bad they itch,” and she continued on as she worked, by the time she was done, most of the ash had been cleared from his feathers. “Hold them out again, let the water rinse away what’s left.” 

He did. 

It was a simple interaction, but it gave her hope. Wings done, she ducked around him again, pulling him back against her, holding him steady in the hot water. “Stay awake,” she whispered in his ear. 

He was looking around again. “Where?” 

“This is the nest under the Spire. Squee is a nest—” 

He tensed, started struggling. 

“Stop, what’s wrong?” 

“Spire—Maze…”

“No. Not in the Spire, under. We’re safe here. I promise.” 

“I don’t remember,” he mumbled.

“I know. It’s—” She stopped and cleared her throat. “You’re going to be fine.” The lie came easily, because it was the same one she’d been telling herself since this all started. 

Dromos had warned her against staying in the heat too long. She pulled Lucifer back to the edge, and with a lot of effort, managed to drag him back up to the ground. He pushed himself up to his knees, swayed, and almost fell back into the water again. He would have if not for her arm around his waist. “Careful.” She grabbed for her own clothes, and he started coughing all over again. 

He bent forward braced on his arms, choking on the gunk in his lungs for what seemed like forever. Even after the coughing subsided he couldn’t seem to catch his breath, and he ended up limp in her arms, unconscious from the ordeal. Whatever progress she’d imagined he’d gained in the water seemed lost all over again. 

But the water had done its job. He was no longer cool to the touch. That had to count for something, didn’t it? 

She got dressed and Dromos helped her return Lucifer to their room. She watched Dromos place Lucifer on the bed roll where he curled up, nearly unresponsive. 

“He’s not improving.” Mazikeen stared at Dromos.

“You said he spoke to you. That’s improvement.” 

“Barely. A few words. I don’t even think he understood most of what I said to him.” 

“Give it time.” Dromos reached for her, but Mazikeen stepped away. 

“How much time? I’m no use here. There are other things I should be doing, like tracking down who did this to him. I need to go to the Leviathan’s Pit, someone there must know something.” 

Dromos grumbled. “The Pit? They don’t deal in lethe there.” 

Mazikeen gestured at Lucifer. “Someone did this. I’m going to find out who.” 

“Didn’t you say you’re the only one who can take care of him?” Dromos taunted lightly. “You’d leave him now?” 

Mazikeen looked back at the figure curled up on the floor. “I’ve done what I could.” 

“It takes time, Mazikeen. The poison is still in his mind.”

“You said yourself, you don’t think he’ll come through this as he was, so what’s the point! I’m no use here.”

“Stay, Mazikeen. Even addled there is awareness. He’s already shown he still recognises who you are. He calls for you first. When he wakes he’ll suffer more for the confusion and panic if you aren’t there. The lethe dealers aren’t going anywhere.” 

She hesitated. Watching him like this _hurt_. The knowledge that he might never recover was more than she could bear. Lucifer moaned softly in his sleep. She didn’t want to leave him. “I’ll stay. Just until he’s more aware.”

Dromos nodded approvingly. “I’ll have one of the minders bring some food and drink. Might make a decent nest-minder of you yet.” He chuckled and darted out of the way before Mazikeen could punch his arm at the insult. "Give him more of the sleeping draught," he called as he ducked through the door. 

But that left her alone again with Lucifer. She sat by his side, and gently rested her hand on his shoulder. She hated drugging him to sleep all the time, but at least asleep, he wasn’t suffering. Dromos was right, the lethe dealers could wait for now. Until Lucifer recovered more. She measured the sleeping draught out and pulled Lucifer's head and shoulders onto her lap. 

He woke briefly. “Maze?”

She startled at the sound of her name. There was more awareness in his eyes now than she’d seen through his entire recovery. 

“You're here?” His voice was still rough with coughing and the deep bruises still visible across his throat, but the words were clear. 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” She squeezed his arm and he winced at the touch. 

“You left.” 

“I’m here now. I’m staying. Drink this.” She held the potion to his lips and he drank it. 

He was quiet for a while, and she thought he'd drifted away again. "Maze."

"Hmm?"

He opened his eyes, focused on her face for the first time. He placed his fingers over hers.

“Stay with me, Lucifer,” Mazikeen whispered, leaning close.

But Lucifer's eyes had already closed. His fingers slipped from hers, the sleeping draught taking effect. Mazikeen arranged him into a comfortable position on the bed and crawled up to lay behind him. She wrapped herself around his chest, and contemplated all the ways she could carve pieces out of whoever hurt him. 

A routine set in. Mazikeen brought him to the pool each ashfall. He was calmer and more aware in the hot water. He grew stronger and eventually he was able to walk back to their quarters with her support. Food was delivered on a regular schedule. Ooze fungus, just as she’d asked for, and plenty of water. In between, he lay, eyes dim, unfocused. 

“Time to eat, can you sit up?” Maze asked. 

His gaze traveled to her, but it took a while for him to respond. Mazikeen waited, she tried to be patient. Slowly he shifted, pushed himself up on one arm, sat with his legs folded beside him. 

She passed him a bowl, and he accepted. It felt a lot like back when she’d first met him. Far too much like that. “Do you recognise me?” 

He shifted his attention from the bowl back to her face. “Yes.” 

“Do you remember what happened to you?” 

He placed the bowl on the ground. “No.” 

“It was the lethe drug.” 

“Lethe?” Confusion marred his features.

“Yes.” 

He shuddered and took a deep breath, but his breath caught and turned into rasping coughs. He coughed and choked and Mazikeen pushed an empty bowl his way for him to spit the gunk still coming out of his lungs into. The coughs quieted after, but left him exhausted and he laid down without eating. 

Nothing he’d said so far gave her any insight on his recovery. “Who gave you the lethe, Lucifer?” 

“I did,” he whispered and curled in on himself, as he did when in pain. 

And that made no sense at all. She poured another sleeping drought. “It’s okay. Drink this and sleep. Maybe you’ll be able to tell me more next time you wake up.” 

She took back the bowl of ooze fungus and placed it by the door. At least the dream-wandering had quieted. There were no more nonsensical mutterings or movements as he rested. The stillness was just as disconcerting. 

Dromos returned to check in. "The ash-lung is healing nicely, Mazikeen. With luck the danger has passed."

"Why's he still coughing so much?"

"Healing takes time. Is he still taking the sleeping draught?"

"Yes." She paced across the room near the fire. "How much longer, Dromos?"

"He needs to sleep, Mazikeen. The poison batters their minds, like fists to a body. Sleep lets the mind rest so it can heal. When the ache passes in his head, then we can stop making him sleep. It takes time. It is a mistake to push them when they’re in this stage. They lose more."

"Fine! Fine! We keep him sleeping!"

"It's hard to wait." Dromos said aloud what she was thinking, as though she were a spawn needing confirmation. 

Mazikeen growled at him.

"I brought you some leatherworking tools."

She eyed him. "At what cost?”

“Mazikeen,” Dromos spread his arms wide, acting innocent. “Your words wound me. Why do you suspect ulterior motives?”

“What do you want for it?"

His grin only grew bigger. "I need belts for five spawn, this big"—he gestured with his huge hands—"And the tools are yours."

"And that's all?"

"Yes, Mazikeen. Unless you get bored and wish to make more spawn clothes. I’ve got plenty of leather. We could use whatever pieces you make to sell for extra coin at the market. You know the Spire only provides the barest of necessities. A little extra here and there is always appreciated.” 

She snatched the tools. "I'll make your belts." 

“Up to you, of course. It’s better than pacing and brooding.”

The next hand of ashfalls passed much the same. When Lucifer was awake, he responded to some simple commands, but not much else. Other times he looked at her with his brows knit together and his head tilted to the side, as though he were trying to understand. He spoke a little, but questions about what happened brought nothing but confusion. 

Dromos was no help with his talk about 'trainability' and reminders to not set her hopes too high. He didn’t know Lucifer like she did. 

Lucifer was looking at her again when she made her third pouch. She wondered how long he’d been awake. “Hungry?” She'd learned to keep her questions short.

He pushed himself up, as awkward and uncoordinated as he'd been the first time and coughed. Not the same deep hacking it had been in the beginning “Water?” 

She passed him the flask. Him asking for things usually meant a good spell. Maybe this time he'd show a glimmer of his old self. He accepted the flask, drank, and placed it beside him when he was done. 

“How are you feeling?” Maze asked cautiously. 

He coughed again before answering. “My head's pounding. And it hurts—here.” He placed his hand on his chest, and coughed. 

She suppressed the whoop that wanted to escape. This was the first time he’d answered anything so clearly and quickly. “Do you know where you are?"

He looked around, confusion and growing worry showing in his expression. "No."

"This is the nest,” she explained. 

“Squee found me?” he asked. 

Mazikeen grinned. “Yes. You remember?” 

“No,” he coughed again and cleared his throat. “You said… I was found in the ash?”

How long ago had she told him that? He remembered? “You’ve been aware of everything I told you? All this time?”

He shook his head, his gaze drifted away from her. “Some… not a lot.” 

Mazikeen forced herself to stay calm, to take it slow. First she yelled out for the nearest nest-minder to go get some food. She was sick of ooze fungus, but she wanted Lucifer to be comfortable. So long as she stayed with him, she’d been eating the same as him. 

When she turned back, Lucifer was still awake and staring at her, though he was rubbing his forehead and grimacing. A bad sign. She gave him another sleeping draught, but couldn't resist asking “How much do you remember?” He was getting better, she could go kill whoever was responsible if he could point her in the right direction… 

But he only glanced around the small room. “Here. A long time?” 

She turned her face away, not wanting him to see the disappointment. “Yeah. It’s been a while.” 

He saw it anyway, and reached forward, taking her hand. She let him pull her down, chest to chest, his arms wrapping around her shoulders and holding her close. “Maze, I’ve missed you,” he whispered. 

“I’ve missed you, too,” Maze answered. 

Over the next few ashfalls, he stayed awake longer, and he started talking more. Mazikeen tried not to push. He remembered her former dome, and the market, he talked about walking the lanes, and asked about Fraq and her males, Wen, Bof, and Grog. She filled in as many missing pieces as she could. Even as he talked to her, it was clear when memories started coming together. His face became more animated, and suddenly details would emerge about a place Fraq had showed him, or some characteristics he found interesting on a Lilim he’d seen at the Leviathan Pit. 

He said not a word about what happened at the Spire with the tribute or about the lethe drug. 

“Lucifer, I’ve waited too long. I have to go find who hurt you.” 

He met her gaze steadily. “No one hurt me, Maze.” 

“Just because you don’t remember—”

“I remember enough.” 

“Then why haven’t you said anything?” 

"Because there’s nothing to say. It's all mixed up. There's so much I can't sort out—"

“If you don’t remember, why are you so adamant that no one hurt you?” Mazikeen hadn't meant to upset him. It was still too soon in his recovery to push. She noticed the fine lines forming around his eyes. The headache was returning. 

He looked past her. “I remember wanting it. I still want it. Maze—” he couldn’t continue as another bout of coughing took over. It left him panting for breath, but he sat up again. “I liked it.” 

Mazikeen shook her head. “You’re only saying that because you don’t remember. That's how lethe works, it makes you like it so much you keep going back for more even when you know you shouldn’t.” She wished she could make him understand. “You’re not from here, how are you to know more than our own kind who are trained to survive out in the collective? I was supposed to protect you, and I failed. We’ve both been manipulated, and I’m going to find out by who.” 

"There’s no one," he mumbled, rubbing his temples. "My head hurts, it's hard to focus."

"Just a few more questions, Lucifer. Do you remember where you got the lethe?"

"There was a large dome? I can't sort it out. It's all," he spun his hand in the air. "Mixed up." 

"When you think about lethe, is there anyone you think of, in particular?" 

He closed his eyes, forehead creasing in tension. "When I try, it’s just shadows. Let me come with you. If I'm there, maybe I’ll see something to help me remember more.” 

She snorted. She'd be an idiot to trust he wanted anything other than more lethe, but she said, “Not while you’re still recovering.” 

“Then wait for me.” he reached her hand again but she pulled away. 

“Not this time. You’re well enough now for Dromos to take care of you.”

“Don't leave me behind again, Maze.”

"Only for now. Dromos is a nest minder." She placed her hand on his shoulder. “He helped you when Squee brought you in from the ash, got you breathing again.” 

"No."

"Take the sleeping draught. I’m going to the Leviathan's Pit to ask around."

"I'm tired of sleeping." He placed his hand over hers. 

Mazikeen took a deep breath. Had she really been looking forward to him arguing with her again? She grinned, of course she had.

“Come here, Maze.” 

She chuckled, “I am here.”

He leaned in closer, kissed her neck. 

“You’re still not well. Take the sleeping draught.”

“I’ve missed you,” he said, but accepted the medicine. "Maze," he said, and pulled her to him. He closed  
his mouth over hers, and she lay down at his coaxing. Their hands roamed one another, mapping out once familiar features. His hands soon stilled, one arm draped across her abdomen, and his eyes drifted closed. 

“How bad is it?” she asked him, trailing her fingers across his forehead. 

“There’s a pounding inside. Constantly,” he admitted. 

"It's going to be okay. You're going to be okay."

"I don't feel okay."

"It's the drug. This will pass." 

He hugged her tighter and nuzzled into her neck. "The Leviathan’s Pit is a good place. Don't hurt the throwbacks. I like them."

Maze heaved a sigh, but said, "We’ll see. Depends on what I discover."

"Stay with me."

"For a little while. Sleep and I'll stay another ashfall."

She ran her fingers through his hair. He talked—mumbled—about a green-haired female with a forked tongue who liked him and took him places. The description sounded familiar, but she couldn't place it. If the patrons at The Leviathan's Pit didn't prove helpful, she would find this female and demand to know where she had taken Lucifer.


	14. The Birds and the Bees as Told by Dromos

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# Chapter 14 The Birds and the Bees as Told by Dromos

****

Lucifer stretched, his bones and joints echoed a faint ache, but better, far better than they'd been. His head didn't hurt. He rubbed across his forehead and temples. The ache had been so constant for so long, that the absence left him light and energetic. His wings held more life than they had before, and he rolled his shoulders, sighing with relief when they tucked away out of this dimension. There'd been a candle burning… He patted around until his hand touched the bundle.

He smiled. Of course Maze wouldn’t leave him in the dark. He struck the rocks and caught the sparks with the moss bundle. When it burned steadily, he lit the candle. The light exposed the room. There wasn’t a lot in it, but he didn’t need much. Maze would be back in a few flakes of ash. He frowned. No. She'd left. Panic spiked. _I'll be back soon._ He took a deep breath. The continuing memory lapses bothered him. It would be okay. He didn't need to worry. He waited for a long time. The candle burned away a quarter of its height when it occurred to him that he didn't know where this chamber was.

Nothing stopped him from exploring. Maze hadn't warned him not to. He got to his feet. Staying upright was harder than he remembered, how long would the background dizziness last? He frowned. Clothes hung on pegs and a basket sat in the corner. Someone had collected his clothing from Maze’s dome? Relief at the sight washed through him. He touched the clothes, the unexpected softness brought a smile to his face. He took them to the bedroll near the dim light of the candle. Izuden had picked this sleeveless robe. The textures slipped over his skin, smooth and warm. The leggings and tunic, Maze had chosen. All these items came from that glorious ashfall he'd spent at the market with Maze and Izuden experimenting with face paints and dancing to the drum beats. He wrapped the memory around himself as much as he did the clothes. 

Dressed, with even his feet wrapped in layers, Lucifer felt secure. And _warm_. He'd been cold for so long that warmth was a novelty worth noting. He held the candle aloft and peered into the darkness beyond. The hallway stretched out to either side of his room. He smelled water from one direction. _The hot pool_. He turned the other direction. Doors lined the walls, some opening at floor level, others higher on the wall, the spacing was irregular, as expected with Lilim construction. He moved slowly, the feeble light from the candle not illuminating beyond arm's length. 

The hall ended in stairs. He hesitated. Go back or forward? He froze, one foot on the step. It shouldn't be so hard to decide. He knew what he wanted. He always knew what he wanted...but he didn't. His mind remained as frozen as his posture. The male Maze had spoken to, Dromos, had told her often not to expect improvement. His memory fragmented and broke and his thoughts crawled. He shouldn't be like this, and he caused it. He made himself like this. 

He took the step. His old self didn't doubt and hesitate, so it wasn't allowed now. 

The hall at the top of the stairs twisted and turned before opening into a larger room. His candle created a tiny halo around him. The dark pressed in, but he risked stepping away from the wall into the unknown. Quick swishes of movement and whispers surrounded him, and then dozens of tiny, sticky creatures attacked his legs, grasping his clothes, climbing up him. The tiny things nipped at exposed skin, and emitted chattering, overlapping, high pitched noises that imitated Lilim words. The wall of sound overwhelmed him after the recent quiet. He tried backing away, but they tangled around his feet. 

"Enough!" Lucifer rolled his shoulders. His wings whooshed into this reality with a gust of air that knocked several of the creatures to the floor. He flared his feathers. No denizen of hell could tolerate their light. 

Bipedal creatures of varying sizes from below knee high to waist high filled the room. Many squealed, in their teeny, ear piercing voices, and covered their eyes. One, braver than the rest raised a tiny knife gripped in its chubby fingers in a defensive motion. It's oversized head and large eyes gave the gesture a comical effect, but something about the protruding bone on the chin and the tiny mauve and gold horns with the spiral twist seemed familiar. 

The effort to keep his wings flared drained his energy and they dimmed, drooping until the primaries brushed the floor. He reached for the wall, the dizziness making him feel unsteady in the face of the yawning darkness. 

A meaty arm slapped down across Lucifer's shoulders. "Living-angel! Finally, we get to meet you on your feet!"

Lucifer startled, but the heavy arm held him steady. His head barely reached the male's shoulder, and the giant was broad in a way that made Lucifer feel diminutive. Images stuttered through his mind.   
The memory of being carried and maneuvered reminded him that the dizziness had once been far worse. And a name surfaced to go with this shaggy giant. 

"Dromos?"

The giant's large hand slid down from Lucifer's shoulder, rubbing up and down his bicep. A broad, open baring of the teeth looked dangerous on this male, despite it being of the friendly type. "That's right. You remembered! Dromos, at your service." He gestured at the darkness beyond the pool of light created by Lucifer's candle. "The spawn don't mean nothing by it. Attracted to power, you know." He turned to the room and scowled at the small creatures encroaching into the light before reaching into a pouch at his waist and tossing a handful of shiny pebbles. The creatures scrambled after the pebbles the sounds of their scuttling feet getting further away from Lucifer.

Like Maze, half Dromos' face was shredded and rotten. The eye that wasn't milky white was a startling blue, and his mouth was spread in that wide, jovial, but disconcerting, smile. Sounds of fighting broke out in the darkness. Several of the small creatures' voices raised in shouts and snarls, and Dromos watched proudly.

Lucifer tried and failed to duck out from under the male's arm. "What are they?"

"These? These are a few of the collective's spawn. Future warriors, farmers, hunters. One or two will be Close to Mother, shift to the golden eyes, if we're lucky."

"Spawn?"

Dromos frowned a little. "Offspring, progeny, young." He frowned deeper at Lucifer's continued confusion. "These are the product of mating."

"Mating?"

Dromos gave him a very concerned look. "Perhaps your mind is more addled than we suspected."

Lucifer looked down at himself. "I am as I always have been. Are you not?"

"No. Do you honestly not understand how living things are formed? I know you’ve coupled before." 

“What does coupling have to do with these creatures?” Lucifer looked at the spawn again, perplexed. 

"Brozan!" Dromos' bellow startled Lucifer again, but the steadying arm across his shoulders still held him.

A male with many short, spiky, white horns poking through his black hair trotted into Lucifer's candlelight. 

"Light the hearth and lanterns."

Brozan nodded and spun away into the darkness.

Hungry-eyed spawn closed in on Lucifer as Dromos left. Lucifer fled from the disturbing creatures, following the large Lilim closely. They entered another room, small enough that his candle light touched the walls. Even smaller creatures stared at him. Some stood on shaky legs, some crawled on stubby, fat limbs. Happy burbles erupted at the sight of Dromos, but he strode on through the room. In the next room, the darkest yet, they were met with warning snarls.

Dromos snarled back, a deep, commanding sound and the warning trailed off in a submissive whimper. The Lilim making the warning backed out of the doorway, and they entered. Inside, a tiny sound stopped Lucifer. He lifted the candle, and saw a small male holding a squirming bundle. Dromos took the bundle from the smaller male, cradling it in the crook of one arm, his huge hand nearly the length of the creature. He unwrapped it and Lucifer saw a tiny body with four limbs and a large head. Perfectly formed tiny hands and feet flailed as the creature loudly screamed its displeasure at being exposed. It was uncoordinated and floppy, and looked more like an insect larva than a Lilim.

“What are the young of your kind like?”

“Angels don’t change form.” Lucifer insisted. 

Dromos cooed at the creature as he rewrapped it and carefully passed it back to the smaller male. "Lilim do. All creatures that draw breath do.” 

“Not where I’m from.” 

“Are you toying with me?” Dromos shook his head, and patted Lucifer on the shoulder. He spoke slower than he had before. “We begin like this. This is our youngest spawn. Only a few ashfalls old. We grow through all those stages you saw on the way in here. The ones this high," he tapped Lucifer on the chest, "are nearly whelps. They'll be turned out into the lanes soon. Mazikeen said you ran the lanes with whelps."

Concern filled him regarding Fraq and the others. "What will they change into?"

"Larger versions of themselves. More powerful, more cunning, so’s the hope. Fraq will find a mentor and make warrior, soon."

Lucifer eyed the crawling, toddling creatures. Could Maze's dome become similarly overrun? "Where do they come from?"

Dromos laughed so loudly that the larval Lilim began to wail again and in between soothing sounds, the smaller male growled at them. Dromos quieted and shut the door to the larval chamber. He sat on the floor, and the small creatures crawled or toddled over to him. He was soon covered with them. Lucifer stood in the corner to more easily fend them off him. The idea of these drooling, smelly things crawling on him made his skin crawl.

"I'm not sure where to start. I don't believe I've ever had to explain this to a spawn before."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "I’m not a spawn."

"You certainly aren't." Dromos stared up at the ceiling, thinking it over. "Sprogs grow within a Dame’s belly after a successful coupling." He made a motion over his abdomen as if it was much rounder, and Lucifer recalled the female with Izuden who had showed her deformed abdomen with such pride at the festival.

Dromos continued, "After the right time passes, she expels it and leaves it here in the nesting grounds. Dames don't have time to waste on caring for sprogs and whelps. Too busy leading the collective, you know. Spawn care is for males like me and Brozan and Squee. You need a special temper to handle these little monsters."

Lucifer nudged away a bulbous crawling thing that persisted on pawing at his foot. It snapped its teeth at his leg. "Are all of you capable of producing these creatures?"

Dromos threw his head back, laughing again, and picked up the offending sprog from the floor. It reached out and grabbed onto his face, hanging onto the hole in his cheek. Dromos pried it off and gave it a shove before speaking. It fell on another and the two began rolling around the room scratching and biting. Dromos motioned Lucifer to follow him back out into the hall.

"We're all capable of coupling as you are well aware based on what I’ve heard of your exploits in the Leviathan’s Pit," He laughed again. Then turned serious. "Only the most special of females born _Close to Mother_ are able to make spawn. The rest of us? We do it for fun."

Light shone into the hall, drawing Lucifer forward, but the general din from the room of larger spawn increased in volume as they approached. Screams both excited and angry rang out in shrill, ear piercing tones. Dromos smiled fondly. "They broke into the food stores. In good time, too. Come watch. This batch is both bloodthirsty and clever. There are a few promising warriors in the bunch for sure."

Dromos closed a solid gate made of bone over the open doorway and Lucifer joined him. With lanterns and a large hearthfire lit, Lucifer saw that the room was as large as the Commons. The tallest spawn was holding a smaller one standing on his shoulders, as it tossed food onto the floor of the room. On the floor, one bigger spawn was guarding a large pile of food, growling and snarling at any that approached, tossing away smaller spawn that tried to sneak bits away. The small spawn that had brandished the blade at Lucifer directed a group to attack as one, and the hoarder was overthrown. It retreated, bleeding, with only a handful of food while the group dispersed with a larger portion each. Lucifer stared, horrified.

"Look at that fine potential! He'd make a mighty warrior, that one. Natural born leader the likes I haven't seen in long cycles." He shook his head. "Too bad about those horns. He'd've passed back in the colony times, but now he's on the wrong side of throwback. Too much of the Sires in him, not enough of the Mother. Probably never be accepted out of the quarter. Such a waste."

"Why would having horns matter, if he's capable?"

"It's the sum of the parts. The horns, the bone on the chin, the eyes having the slit pupils. If the beast features weren’t all on his face, if he was female—either could tip the scale in his favor." He clapped Lucifer on the back, knocking him forward a step. "Eh, it is what it is, right angel?"

They watched the spawn tear into the meat, cramming their mouths full, getting dead flesh juice everywhere. "Is there not enough food for these spawn?"

"Of course there is! Look how strong they all are! Even the smallest over there, barely talking that one, and still stout."

"Why do they fight?"

"If we just gave them food, what would that teach them? Newborns are given food. Even those little sprogs still crawling work for it. We want warriors that think and fight and lead. See the one in the corner who lost his stash? He's soft. Always has been. Not soft enough to die, but not strong. That one will never be a warrior. A farmer maybe, if he survives the lanes."

A sudden feeling of stickiness on his feathers was followed by a hard pull. Lucifer yanked his wings up, far above the reach of the spawn. The little leader male smiled triumphantly before he disappeared into a tiny hole in the wall Lucifer hadn't noticed before. He reappeared on the other side of the room in a few seconds holding out his hands, which were covered with barbules trapped in the perpetual stickiness of these creatures. His hands glowed in the dimness. Lucifer roared his anger and all the spawn scattered into holes in the wall.

Dromos looked at him with immense satisfaction. He thumped his fist to his chest and then gripped Lucifer's shoulder firmly. "Now that's how you deal with spawn."

Dromos dragged him further into the room. He scooped up a large handful of dried meat sticks, and began chewing. Snarls erupted from the walls around them. Dromos laughed again. "They'll be plotting how to get this. Good training today."

Lucifer shifted side to side, turning his head trying to pinpoint where the sounds were coming from.

"Best to eat now before they recover from that shock you gave 'em."

Lucifer's stomach gurgled at the reminder he hadn't yet eaten, so he scooped up a pouch full of crystal jellydiscs and black waspcomb fungus, some of the the least noxious to eat raw. He tied the pouch to his belt, to eat slowly. Rustling overhead warned him of the attack, and he side stepped as a waist high spawn-creature hit the floor where he had been standing.

In one blink he was surrounded by clamouring, grasping spawn. He held his wings high out of their reach, and turned to Dromos for support, only to find him smiling and pressing a bag of dried flesh into his hand. Small hands snatched at the meat, and Lucifer smiled. They were beasts, but beasts motivated by food. He lowered his hand within grabbing distance, then twirled away through the gate Dromos now held open. He grinned at the howls of outrage.

They were quick and many, but he twisted and turned until at last one hand clutched at his legging. He whirled to face the creature, baring his teeth. It didn't flinch so he handed it a meat stick. Then he leapt away, leaving it to defend its prize. When they were too slow for too long, he mimicked taking a bite amidst screams and growls. It was almost fun until the little beasts began throwing clods of mud and rock.

"Begone!" he shouted, putting power behind the word. The spawn scattered again, leaving Lucifer with Dromos. He stood, panting, and now that the excitement had died down, exhausted and the familiar ache squeezing at his temples.

"You are a natural with spawn, living-angel. You'll do well in the nest, but back to your bedroll with a sleeping draught for now."

Lucifer grimaced at being told what to do, even though he'd planned on heading to his bedroll on his own. Dromos shrugged. "Stay if you'd rather. The spawn will be back soon enough."

Lucifer went.


	15. Golden Eyes

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# Chapter 15 Golden-eyes

****

Being underground in the nest conjured memories of the binding cord and the cold and dark and hunger of the dungeon. Without Maze in the sleeping quarters—even with the lantern lit—the walls pressed in on him. 

The need to forget clawed at his mind. He needed more lethe. Trying to force his memories, the effort to remember, competed with the yearning for the comfort of forgetting. The certainty Maze would return each wind-rise helped him hold on. Dromos supplied sleeping draughts offering brief escape, but it never lasted long. 

Restless energy and cravings overwhelmed him and drove him into the halls each ashfall. The constant wailing and screeching of the spawn and sprogs grated on his nerves, but it drowned out the turmoil in his head. 

Lucifer stood, relaxing against the wall, and watched the spawn at play. They rushed and wrestled their nest minder to the ground and crawled all over him like feasting carnivores. The nest-minder stood up, howling, and sent the little scamps screeching in all directions. And then the cycle started all over again. 

They were vicious little creatures, interesting to observe, as likely to draw blood as they were to lick each other’s wounds. The nest-minders played along, but didn’t intervene in the skirmishes between them, choosing instead to sit back and let the little monsters figure things out on their own. 

The little creatures fought, and threw stones, played strange games in groups against each other, always with a good dose of conflict mixed in. Aside from a few side pranks, Lucifer couldn't remember a time when he’d been free to play with his siblings like that. He and his siblings had always been tightly controlled, there were commandments to obey, praises to be sung. 

He watched one in particular. The small male with a bone-like chin and little swirly horns on his head. The leader of the food attack earlier. He was an energetic little monster. The others seemed to rally around him as he squealed out orders in his high-pitched voice and directed them where to go, how they should fight. 

Lucifer contemplated the things Dromos told him. About these small creatures growing into bigger ones; that all Lilim went through a similarly inscrutable process. 

It was such a waste of time and energy. Entertaining as they were, these creatures needed special care and feeding, they didn’t know anything, they were disgustingly sticky and loud. For once, he appreciated his father’s efficiency for making him and his siblings fully functional beings from the start.

“Lucifer?” 

He stood quickly, surprised to see Izuden in this place. “What are you doing here?” They asked in unison. 

He brushed his hand over his tunic, how could he answer without—

Izuden placed a hand on his shoulder. “Did Mazikeen bring you here? I heard about what transpired with the Soverain. This is a good thing, Lucifer, I always knew you would thrive with proper nest care. Why don’t you interact with the spawn, I’m sure if you attempted—”

“I’m not here as one of the spawns,” he corrected her, but she already wasn’t listening. Her golden colored eyes were fixed on the spawn racing around in circles. One spawn in particular. The one with the pointy swirly horns. Very much like a small version of the horns growing from her own head, even matching the unusual mauve and gold coloring. 

“You’re a dame,” he worked out slowly, it had never occurred to him to wonder what was special about Izuden other than the color of her eyes. “Have you made one of these things yet?” 

She turned and blinked. “Made? Oh, birthed. Yes. One. So far. I will birth many more.” 

“That little one is cunning. Dromos told me if only he had fewer interesting features, he may have had a chance of being a great leader.” 

Izuden’s expression turned fierce. “That spawn was formed with the most favored male warrior of Soverain Melipath’s collective. He will be a great warrior just like his sire.”

“Varun?” Lucifer asked, remembering the boney chin of the male who had accompanied Maze on their journey to Anilith’s Collective. “You did a lot of coupling with Varun on the journey, didn’t you?” 

“We made a fertile match,” Izuden agreed proudly.

The little spawn had both Izuden and Varun’s features. Lucifer stared. “Does it take much coupling to form one of these?” 

“Just once if its done right.” 

He wondered what the ‘right’ procedure was and if there were ways to avoid it. He scanned the rest of the spawn of the chamber, noting their mixtures of features. There were none so strongly marked as the little horned one. But the other spawn didn’t seem as aware of the problems that arose with that as adult Lilim were. 

Lucifer looked back at Izuden, her golden eyes fixed on his own, and he felt a tightening in his gut. Golden eyes shining in the darkness, in the _shadow_. He felt the surge of need well up in him at the thought. The memory of the powder, the taste, the darkness… 

“Lucifer?” Someone touched his arm and he flinched away. 

He could fight this. Breathe through it. He clenched his fist against the sudden shivers coursing through him. 

Izuden’s gold eyes shown through the haze, and the room spun around him as the floor tilted and he stumbled to the side, falling on his hip.

“Oh, oh no,” he heard Izuden say as though she were far away, “Dromos!” 

A chill spread over him, sudden and deep as though his bones had turned to ice. The shadow. The shadow was upon him and he couldn’t move and he couldn’t breathe. 

On the edge of his awareness he felt someone else near, large hands gripping his arms, holding on, a deep voice speaking in words he couldn’t comprehend. The spell he was under faded in degrees, first came physical awareness that he was on the floor, not restrained, then mental, and the confusion that came with it. Where was he? Exactly where he’d been before. It was disorienting because he knew time had passed, but he didn’t know how much, and he couldn’t remember anything past the sudden desire and need for the lethe. Dromos knelt at his side, his face hovering close to his. “Back with us, angel?” 

“I left?” Lucifer said. Shivers continued to wreak havoc on his coordination. Dromos helped him sit up. He was in the same room as earlier, but the spawn had been removed. Izuden chewed at one of her clawed fingernails, staring at him with her golden eyes. Eyes very much like the faint colour he’d seen staring at him from the shadow-Lilim. 

Her eyes. The shadow-Lilim’s eyes… his heart pounded. The desire for more of the lethe clawed within and he pushed it down. Izuden crouched beside him, her golden eyes—he grasped her wrist. 

“Was it you?” He asked. 

He didn’t want it to be her. Not Izuden. The betrayal stabbed deep. After everything they’d been through, he trusted her. 

Izuden yelped and tried to pull away, but he held tight and released his wings, reaching for the divinity within. Dromos stepped forward to intervene, but Lucifer flared his wings forward, threatening. 

“ _You will not interfere_ ,” he commanded, the divinity coursing through him infused his voice, and Dromos took an involuntary step back. 

Izuden cowered in his grasp, trying to look away, but Lucifer held her gaze, she couldn't break it. His feathers grew brighter as he focused, bringing light to secrets and hidden motivations. They blazed and went dark. 

“It wasn’t you.” He released her and sat down, exhausted from the use of his divinity while already weakened. His head pounded and the ache triggered his anger. He didn't have time for the slow-thinking that came with it.

“Wasn’t me what? What do you think I did?” Izuden pulled away, stepping back until she bumped into Dromos. The giant Lilim placed a protective hand on her shoulder and guided her behind him. 

“The shadow-Lilim, she had power. She used it on me, and she had golden eyes. But it wasn’t you,” 

“My eyes? But—” Izuden started and Dromos took over. “All the dames have eyes of gold.”

“Dames, the females of the Spire?” Lucifer asked, and thinking back, what little he’d seen of the inhabitants of the Spire, it was true. “Do only dames posess golden eyes?” 

“Yes, that is how we know which ones are special,” Dromos answered. “Settle down, angel.” 

The implications of that—he got up and tried to push past, but Dromos blocked the exit with his bulk.

"I need Maze." Lucifer would fight Dromos if had to, despite his current weakness. He sized up the space between them and shifted his weight in preparation. He would try regardless. 

“She’s not here, angel.” Dromos kept his voice slow, the way Lucifer had heard him speaking to the spawn. 

He did not have the patience for this, and Maze might not have the time. He needed to find her and warn her the Spire was involved. "Maze is in danger."

"No more than she was a few flakes of ash ago." 

“Where are my sandals?” he demanded. Bare feet had been welcome after waking up and while moving around the compound, but to go outside he knew well enough that he’d need hard foot coverings. 

“Calm, calm. Mazikeen stated, explicitly, that I am to ensure your safety while in our care here and to not allow you to leave.” 

Was he a prisoner after all? That only made Lucifer all the more determined to battle his way out. _She wouldn’t_. His hand shook as he drew his fingers through his hair. Why couldn’t he focus. There were too many directions pulling on him, Maze, lethe, the shadow-Lilim with golden eyes, being trapped. 

“You’re upset,” Dromos took a step forward, and Lucifer took a cautionary step away. The Lilim spread out his arms, palms up, non-threatening. “You need Mazikeen, and she’s not here. You worry for her.” 

Did Dromos really understand? “Yes, she needs to be warned.” Lucifer watched Dromos carefully, wary of manipulation. 

“Yes, I will send Squee to find her as soon as I know what to tell him. What do we need to warn Mazikeen of?” 

“The golden eyes,” Lucifer nearly yelled. Were none of them listening? “The shadow who gave me lethe had golden eyes like Izuden. The Spire was in on this. Maze thinks she is looking for a lethe dealer, but she’s going after the Spire and she needs to know.” He focused on Izuden standing behind Dromos. “You’re from the Spire. Did you know?” Lucifer started stalking toward her and Dromos extended his enormous arm to block his way. 

Dromos turned to address Izuden. “Did you? It will be best for everyone if you tell us now.” 

“I didn’t know,” Izuden shook her head as she spoke, “I’ve only had the one sprog, not even a female. I’m no one's favorite in the Spire. No one confides in me. I swear.” 

Lucifer believed her. 

Izuden stepped forward. “I must return. I will try and listen for news. If there is anything of value I learn, I will bring it to you,” she promised. 

Lucifer watched her leave. “Dromos, you must let me go find Maze, she needs me.” 

“Not like this, she doesn’t,” Dromos said bluntly. 

Lucifer felt his resolve begin to erode into doubt. Dromos was correct, he caused all this. He was in no condition to be useful to Maze. 

With a roar, Dromos called for Squee, and moments later the little male sprinted into the room. “Inform Mazikeen that the Spire was involved and to return to the nest as soon as possible.” 

Squee went running. 

“See, angel, Mazikeen will be warned. Squee is the best at finding lost whelps, he can just as easily locate a daughter of Lilith. Now will you settle?” 

Could he? The frozen feeling remained in his bones, his hands still shook. There was something like a buzzing noise in his head that would not stop, and he needed it to stop and he knew Lethe was the only thing that could help him. 

“I need—something,” he said to Dromos, almost desperately. The murky nature of his thoughts hit him again, a reminder that he wasn’t okay. He wasn’t in any condition to help Mazikeen. 

“What do you need?” the Lilim asked, voice serene. 

That was part of the problem. Lucifer didn’t know the answer to that. He needed Maze to be safe. He needed lethe, but that wasn’t an option. He needed to escape. Not just the nest or the collective or this realm, but from everything. 

But even more, he needed to recover so he could be assist Mazikeen. He didn’t want to sit aside and wait for her to solve this for him. He wanted to be involved. He wanted to find the shadow Lilim and demand answers. 

He looked at Dromos. “I need to prepare for Mazikeen's return.” 

The big Lilim grinned. “That I can help you with,” he patted Lucifer on the back. “Hot purple jellydisc gumbo will be a start. Come with me to the kitchen or would you prefer I bring it to your sleeping room?” 

“Kitchen,” Lucier chose. Being alone right now was not a good idea. “Purple jellydisc? Is there anything else?” 

Dromos laughed. “Who has been preparing meals for you?”

“Maze prepares food, and she taught me how to prepare it for myself.” 

Dromos raised his eyebrows, and then laughed uproariously, almost to the point of falling over. “Mazikeen taught you to cook? Oh. No wonder you’re favourite food is scalding ooze porridge. That’s the only thing I’ve ever known Mazikeen not to bungle.”

“I like her food,” he said, ready to defend Maze's honor.

“I'm sure you do, but this is gumbo. If Maze’s skills are all you know, you’re in for a treat.”

Dromos led him down a hall, through another large chamber, and into a hot furnace. “This was our mid-ash break meal.” He scooped a giant spoon of a slimy chunky substance into a bowl and passed it over, then served himself a bowl as well. He motioned Lucifer out to the other room and sat on the ground. 

Lucifer inspected the substance first, it wasn’t anything he was familiar with. He wasn’t even sure how to eat it until Dromos held his own bowl up to his mouth and tilted it up, slurping in a big mouthful. So, Lucifer did the same. The flavour took a moment to get used to, but he found himself enjoying the taste after the first few mouthfuls. 

“Mazikeen is a formidable warrior, there’s no need to be so concerned.” 

“I should be at her side.” he ate as much of the meal as his attention would allow. It was impossible to settle the conflict inside. “How long will it take Squee to find Maze?” 

“As long as it takes,” Dromos answered unhelpfully. He collected Lucifer’s bowl, seeing the rest of the food remained untouched. “Perhaps a distraction is what you need?” 

“I don’t need a distraction.” Lucifer winced as the pounding in his head redoubled.

Dromos drummed his fingers on the table top. "You need a sleeping draught."

Lucifer shook his head. The motion set a wave of pain in motion and he gripped his head with both hands. 

"Sleep. You're in pain. Maze will return soon," Dromos spoke very slowly. 

The words barely made sense, but he finally parsed them and nodded. He drank the potion and lay down where he sat. Somewhere in the swirling mess in his mind, Lucifer knew he was being talked down to and hated it, but sleep pulled him under.


	16. Interrogation

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# Chapter 16 Interrogation

****

His sleep was uncomfortable and disturbed with memories of events he suspected were real but he had no conscious memory of; lounging by a hearth, a sense of yearning that he couldn’t conquer. The yearning stayed with him even after waking. Lucifer stirred, finally warm and not alone. Maze had returned and she lay pressed against him, her arm holding him close. He’d been worried Dromos had been humoring him. But here she was.

"Are you with me, Lucifer?"

"Yes."

"What happened?"

“You're safe?”

“Why wouldn't I be?" Maze narrowed her eyes. “Is that all this is? Squee said there was something wrong with you. Did you lie to him to make me return?” 

" _I do not lie._ I went back. Sleep-wandering—but I wasn't asleep. I had a waking sleep-wandering, memories that seemed lost,” he explained quickly. “Maze, did you know Lilim start as larva?” 

“The sprogs?” she asked sitting up. Lucifer remained laying down. 

“Were you once one of those creatures?”

Lucifer felt the weight of her gaze on him. “Is it happening now?” she asked. “The sleep-wandering while awake?" She shook her head. "You need more rest.”

“What? No. Izuden was here, watching the spawn. For real.”

“Lucifer, what are you on about?”

“Izuden has golden eyes. The dames are the only Lilim with golden eyes. I didn't know. I saw her eyes and remembered something about the lethe—golden eyes in shadow. All her other features were obscured, but I saw gold. Maze, the shadow-Lilim is from the Spire. You’re in danger. They have power over—.”

Maze gripped his hand, demanding his attention. “Lucifer, slow down. No one has that kind of power over me.” 

He drew in a deep breath, trying to sound calm enough to avoid her insisting he needed more sleep. He sat up, still focusing on presenting a calm front. “Your vow to Anilith gives them that power. I’ve seen what she can do to you.” 

"It's going to be okay, Lucifer. You've warned me. I'll be careful. The throwbacks gave me a name. Rillam. Do you remember her?"

_Marketplace, Green hair, a forked tongue that could..._ "Yes."

"Where did you first meet her?"

He prodded at the memories being called forth. "We coupled. A lot. I knew her before that. Coins." He sat straighter and smiled. "She bought your craft items, but then she taught me I could use my own talents to gain coins as well."

"I'm searching for her."

“Why? Rillam had nothing to do with it. I trust her.” 

Maze scowled and a rumble set up in her chest. "You shouldn't. She's the cause of this." Her hand waved over him.

“How?” 

“The throwbacks in the Pit were unimpressed with how she manipulated you away from them.” 

"She wouldn't do that."

“Lucifer, you think you know how things work here. You don't. I made a mistake. I thought it would suffice to let you learn on your own, the way our whelps do, and you seemed to be doing fine. But whelps know our ways and are taught what to avoid before being released from the nest. I never prepared you for any of that. It's my fault that they were able to get to you. It won't happen again, but I need you to think. Rillam took you somewhere else. I need to know where.”

Lucifer closed his eyes. He remembered the Leviathan’s Pit well, but there were other memories that didn’t fit together with what he remembered of that place. "Does the Leviathan’s Pit have private areas?" he asked. He didn’t thought so, but...

"No. It's all open like most domes are."

The familiar headache that came along with pushing his memories started to throb behind his temples. "I think there were rooms. I see tusks and spears and—" He stopped glanced at Maze's face. "I liked it. I wanted it."

“You desired lethe?”

"I liked how it made me feel." He swallowed hard. "I wanted it."

"That's the lethe talking. It alters your senses. It makes you want more."

“No one made me do anything. I asked for more, and that's what they gave me.”

Maze's jaw muscles clenched. “I’m not convinced you know the difference.”

“The difference between what?”

"That's the problem, Lucifer. Come on. You need to eat."

"I don’t remember. I’m trying, Maze—"

Maze's expression softened as she took his hand, but she didn’t explain what she meant. 

He ate and he slept, and when Maze left to search for Rillam, Lucifer wandered the halls. He watched the spawn at play, sometimes he taunted the vile little things by dangling meat sticks out for them. Watching them leap and scurry for the promised prize was a distraction, however brief it was. Dromos seemed to consider it his personal mission to ensure Lucifer had plenty to eat. The larger Lilim would take him to the large kitchen, explain the uses of certain fungus and how they should be cooked. 

Maze returned each windrise, each time with new questions. Apparently Rillam was proving to be more of a challenge to find than Maze had expected. She wanted to know how he met her, what items she sold in her stall, other Lilim he knew who associated with her. He had very few answers. 

Every time Maze left, he stayed behind. Was Izuden correct in her assumptions of him being left to the nest? Five sleeps, and still Maze came back with no more than she left with. But at least she continued coming back.

"I know where she is now. If the winds hadn't risen early, I would have had her."

"Take me with you, then."

"I can move faster alone. 

“You can’t leave me here with these spawn creatures indefinitely.” 

“No, never,” Maze smiled, but only briefly. “Stay behind one more time."

One more time was all it took. 

“Lucifer!” 

Lucifer jumped up at the sound of Maze’s voice, A scuffle accompanied her, and he rushed into the hall with Dromos close on his heels. 

Maze, decked out in all her armour, ash smudged on her shoulders and hood, dragged along a struggling female Lilim behind her. 

“Rillam?” Lucifer asked. 

The Lilim vendor saw him and her eyes went wide with shock. “Lucifer! They told me you’d been addled, that you wandered into the winds and were lost.” Despite Maze dragging her along, Rillam attempted to drop to her knees. “Angel—Lucifer—you know me. I was good to you. Made you feel good, yes? Stop this,” she pleaded. 

Memories flashed rapidly in Lucifer's mind. His first successful trade. Letting her touch his naked body in exchange for the full value of his items. Following her to...the memories blurred here. He remembered standing in front of a dome with Rillam, but what dome? The memories were fragmented and made no sense. There were columns with genitalia, but there also weren't. Hunting scenes and blank walls. He braced himself against the table.

Maze shoved Rillam at Dromos, “Find a place for this,” she ordered. 

Dromos caught the scrambling figure tossed his way and wrapped his giant hand around her upper arm. “What am I supposed to do with it?” Dromos asked. 

“We need a place to interrogate her.” 

“This is a nest, not a dungeon...” Dromos grumbled but headed on his way, prisoner in tow. 

Lucifer remembered coupling and the things her forked tongue could do, but he also remembered flying with Rillam by his side and pain that led to more pleasure than he thought possible. 

Maze touched his shoulder. “Go, wait in our chamber for me, rest. I’ll update you as soon as I’m done talking to Rillam.” 

“I’m coming with you,” he insisted, blinking the cooking room back into focus. He would have time later to sort the memories into sense. 

“You’re up for this?” 

“Yes.” How could she think he wasn’t? 

Maze seemed to know where Dromos stashed the prisoner. They found him sitting in front of a small chamber. 

Dromos grumbled and stood up as they got near. “So much screaming you’d think she were a sprog herself.” 

Maze laughed as Dromos moved aside to let them in. “Want me to stick around?” 

“Better that you don’t.” Mazikeen smiled, teeth gleaming as she eyed Rillam. She paced around the frightened vendor. Lucifer listened to Dromos’ heavy footsteps recede down the hall. 

Rillam cowered as Maze moved closer. “If it’s the coin you want—I’ll get it for you. All of it. I kept track.” Rillam sputtered, voice quick and high. 

Lucifer held back near the wall, intent on watching Maze work. She growled deep in her throat and stepped up to Rillam. “What coin?” 

“Yes, yes, it is all yours. All of it. The angel belongs to you, it is your right to compensation. Lots of coin. They paid well to have me lure the angel to them.” 

It was all for coin? To introduce him to the Leviathan's Pit? To take him away from the Pit? He knew coin could be used to better things for Maze, but to betray? Rillam ignored him as she pleaded with Maze. He thought she was his friend. He _trusted_ her, and she _used_ him. He wasn’t impressed with their ridiculous system of exchange, especially now that he knew the Lilim valued it enough to betray. Maze, at least, seemed unimpressed by Rillam's offer. 

“Where did you take me?” he asked. Memories teased a mix of pain and pleasure. Bites and soothing touches by a warm hearth and the ever present release that came with licking the powdered substance off of someone's fingertip, but the face remained a blur. “The Leviathan’s Pit doesn’t deal in pain or lethe. But the other place did, didn’t it?” 

Rillam addressed only Maze. “I only gave him what he wanted.” She wouldn’t even look Lucifer’s way. “I wasn’t involved in what happened after.” 

Maze grabbed Rillam by the throat. “You knew what they were going to do?” 

“We did nothing the angel didn’t ask for, everyone knows what Lania’s Den is for.”

“That’s where you took him?” The dark look in Mazikeen’s eyes told him she recognised the name of the place. “Did you inform Lucifer what it was for,” Maze snarled. “Who forced the lethe on him?”

Lucifer bit back a retort. He wasn’t forced. He remembered wanting it, asking for more. He shook his head to clear the memories. 

“Not me. Not Lania.” Rillam clawed at Maze's hand on her throat, her voice strained. "Lania is careful. We took good care of him. He never said you would disapprove. We know he is yours. Just enough lethe for fun, not to damage. Someone else! No one knows.” 

“What do you know of a dame going there?”

Rillam nearly laughed. “A dame? Never. None would dare go near the lethe.”

“I don't believe you. All of you let his happen.”

“Didn’t mean to lose control. Don’t know how he got too much! When he was lost we looked. Looked until we were ash-choked. No one wanted to damage the angel. I swear!"

Maze threw her to the ground and pressed her knee against her sternum. Rillim gasped, squirming under the pressure. “Lucifer is under my protection. Anyone who dares hurt him, answers to me.”

Rillam keened as Maze increased her pressure. Her tone was pleading, trying to placate. “He wanted it. Begged for more, more, more. How were we to know angels can't—” 

Lucifer felt a mix of emotions. Shame for his ignorance, and anger at how easily he’d been manipulated. Maze was right. He really didn’t know anything of this world, did he? His presence mattered so little that Rillam barely acknowledged his presence and Maze was preoccupied with asserting her dominance. 

He leaned in close again, gripped Rillam’s face to force her to look at him. “Why did you bring me there?” 

“Lania,” Rillam choked out. “Lania paid me, told me to bring the angel.” 

Maze leaned forward and grabbed Rillam by the throat. The Lilim choked and gasped for air, struggling weakly.

Lucifer pulled Maze off before she could end the life of the Lilim beneath her. “Maze, enough.” 

“It’s no more than what they did to you. Do you remember the bruises around your neck when Squee found you?” 

He didn’t. But he placed himself between Maze and Rillam, who was still gasping for air on the ground. Rillam's words only brought more confusion. Had they truly looked for him? From her words and refusal to speak to him, not Maze, he knew she thought little of him. Beast they called him. What if it was his own nature that betrayed him? 

Maze stalked out. Lucifer followed close behind She stalked down the halls until she found Dromos. “Keep Rillam here. I’ll be back for her.” 

“What am I supposed to do with her?” 

“Think of something.” She growled and stalked off again. 

Lucifer frowned and had to run to catch up. “Maze.” He grabbed her arm, forcing her to stop. “You know that name, Lania. Why?” 

“Lania was among the ones who took you before. I shouldn’t have stopped at a warning. How dare she defy me and take you again.”

Why had Lania wanted him enough to pay Rillam to bring him? He stopped walking as the answer slammed into place. _Coin_. The clink of coin, the constant parade of Lilim wanting to couple with him as he lay exhausted and drunk and wanting to go home, and waking up discarded with the trash all flashed through his mind. He needed coin for… the annoying yet familiar headache spiked behind his eyes again. He remembered wanting what they gave him this time. Liking it. 

He shoved the thoughts away, and jogged to catch up to Maze. His stomach felt ill. He'd felt _safe_. It couldn't all be a lie. He caught's Maze's shoulder, made her look at him, as he said, “No one took me. No one made me do anything I didn’t want to do.” 

“How would you know?” she argued. “You can’t even remember most of it. Why are you so intent on refusing to acknowledge what really happened?”

He looked at her squarely. “I had to have known. If I didn’t, why did I keep going back?”


	17. Glow Worms

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# Chapter 17 Glow Worms

****

Mazikeen needed to find Lania. 

It hurt to watch Lucifer like this. It was a vast improvement from before when she'd feared he wouldn't recover at all, but as much as he tried to hide it, she knew he was still suffering. Even in sleep the stress lines around his eyes were apparent. His insistence that no one had hurt him angered her. How could he say such a thing when it was obvious to everyone other than him,that he’d been manipulated and abused?

After Lucifer's breathing evened out and his grip on her went slack, Mazikeen slipped out of the sleeping quarters. She wasn't finished with Rillam. Lania dealt in a particular type of coupling experience, but she, more than any Lilim, knew the dangers of lethe. It was lethe that had her expelled from the Spire, that turned her eyes from gold to yellow and ensured she would never carry another sprog to birthing. Everything Lania had, she’d lost to the lethe. It had been Lania who took advantage of Lucifer so many winds back. When she delivered her message about leaving Lucifer alone, Maze hadn't suspected the former dame of being a current user. She hadn't thought—why hadn't she thought?—that Lucifer had been given lethe at the time. 

Dromos awaited her. This wasn’t something she wanted Lucifer to witness. A proper interrogation was more than she wanted to expose him to. He'd interfered with her _gentle_ questioning. She wouldn't risk making him sleep wander, or worse go back to sleep wandering while awake. The draught she'd given him would keep him safely out of the way. 

It didn't take long. Rillam showed her true cowardice long before Mazikeen was done torturing her. She knew all that Lucifer should have remembered of Lania, and much more besides. Lania existed on borrowed time. 

Mazikeen cleaned herself thoroughly before she rejoined Lucifer. She lay down beside him and draped her arm across his stomach. 

The room was dark when she woke, the candle had burnt itself out, and her arm remained as it had been, draped over him, but now his hand rested over hers, a finger slowly moving in shapes over the back of her hand. 

“Lucifer?” Maze asked, she knew he was awake, his eyes were open and staring up at nothing. He may be impaired by the darkness but she wasn’t.

She started to pull away so she could light the candle, but Lucifer closed his fingers around hers. 

“Look up.” he said, and waited for her to settle. 

She looked, uncertain what he was trying to draw her attention to. And then she saw it, the small glowing spots on the ceiling. “Are you watching the glow worms?” 

“That’s what they are?” he asked. “Look at them Maze, like thousands of points of light. They're feasting on the moss growing up there.”

“I’ll get someone to clear that out later.”

“Don’t do that.”

“You want to sleep in a chamber invested with maggots?” 

“When you put it that way...” He was quiet for a moment, and then added in a voice so quiet she barely heard. "They look like stars, Maze." 

He’d talked about stars before, it wasn't anything she understood, but the way he spoke of them made her wish she did. "You miss those things— stars?" 

This time he didn't answer. he let his hand drop from hers and sat up, reaching blindly in the dark for the candle to light. She studied him closely, his hands were steadier and his eyes looked brighter. “I’m coming with you to find Lania.”

“Oh really?” Maze reached out and grabbed his hand, held his fingers. Warm and steady. Lucifer pulled away. “I’m fine.” 

She wanted that to be true. 

“What will happen to the worms?”

“One of the males will come clean up and set a torch to them. Get dressed, I have something to show you.”

With the candle lit he stretched to swipe one of the small wiggling—slimy—creatures on the ceiling into his hand to examine more closely. Each segment of its body had a single glowing dot. 

The spawn liked to find the critters and squish them, rub the jelly on the walls and each other and laugh at the nasty smell it produced. What did Lucifer think of them, was he disgusted? His curiosity for new things fascinated her. 

“Do they do anything other than light up?” 

Maze reached over to scoop the worm off his hand and flick it away, but he dodged and held his arm out of reach. 

“Yeah. They eat moss. And leave slime all over everything.” 

He seemed reluctant, but reached up and stuck the little worm back where he’d plucked it from. “Why do they glow?” 

“I don’t know. Get dressed.” 

He did. Choosing a chiton and leggings and his belt. It didn’t escape her notice that he ignored the sandals, but they weren’t going outside. If he wanted bare feet, she didn’t care, at least he was dressed. 

“It has to have a reason,” he continued, stuck on the subject now as she led him toward the training rooms. “Everything has a purpose, Maze.”

“Easier for the spiders to find and eat them?” 

“Why would they be created like that just to be eaten?” 

“Maybe it's not for them. Its for the spiders.” 

Lucifer made a face. Obviously he wasn’t satisfied with that either. No matter. They were almost where she wanted to take them now. 

Screaming and yelping came from the large room ahead, and Maze held back the door covering for Lucifer to enter. She gazed out at the clawing, screeching hoard of spawn with a sense of pride. This batch were scrappers. There were three heaps of them wrestling and biting and scratching, each trying to fight their way up to the top of their pile. Dromos wandered the room, observing the play. 

A little one was tossed to the side, where it took big gulps of breath, nearly crying. It looked over at Dromos and he nudged it with his foot. The little spawn growled and jumped back in to scratch and bite again. 

“What is this? Aren’t you worried they’ll get hurt?” Lucifer asked, voice quiet and tense. 

“What? No, why would anyone be worried. It’s natural. Look at them learning how to fight. Awesome isn’t it?” She grinned. 

“This is how you teach them?” Lucifer asked, voice low. 

“How else would they learn?” 

He shrugged, expression closed off. Maze frowned at him and wondered what different experiences he might have. 

“Come and see this,” she took his hand, tugging him across the room and through another door. This room was empty but for various weapons hung on the walls. 

“You know what these are?” 

Lucifer stared at her, eyes narrowed. “Swords. Whips. Spears. I know what weapons are.” 

He was snippy. She could work with that. It made what she wanted to do next easier. “You know how to use them?” 

“Yes.” 

She grabbed a blunt staff off the wall, tossed it his way. Lucifer caught it one handed, spun it slowly. 

“You know how to use that?” 

He set his feet, twirled it in a complicated set of swings, and bared his teeth at her. “Do you?” 

She chose a staff for herself, faced Lucifer, and swung. 

He blocked the hit, and backed away. He set the staff beside him, more serious now. “What are you doing?” 

“I want to know if you can defend yourself. Lania might take offense at being questioned. If you come with me, I want to make sure you’re ready.” 

He simply stared. “Lania is the threat. What does that have to do with fighting each other?”

Maze rolled her eyes and swung her staff in a fast arc, whacking him on the hip. He stood steady, glaring, but didn’t raise his staff toward her. 

“Afraid I’ll win?” 

Lucifer snorted a half laugh. But finally, he raised his staff. 

Maze grinned. "I'll take it easy on you," she offered. "You are still recovering, after all." 

And there was the fire she was waiting for. Lucifer's eyes flashed red and he advanced, the staff spinning through the air. Maze ducked as it narrowly missed her head, and rolled as she swept out at his feet. The air in the room rushed as his wings burst into being and he jumped. 

The wings acted as extra balance, and Maze was enthralled by the flow of his movements. Other than the first swing at her head, he didn't made another direct attack, rather blocking her attempts, or using her power against her by setting her off balance with complementary rather than offensive movements. 

He fought strong for a while. Maze's breathed hard herself by the time his movements started to become strained. She fought on, and Lucifer continued, too. 

A lucky hit caught his shin before he could round her staff and direct it away. A jab to the ribs that he was too slow to dodge followed. 

Maze lowered her staff. Lucifer mirrored her. It took effort not to grin. His style was strange, she wasn't impressed that he made no direct attacks, but he was far more skilled than she'd expected. “Let’s take a break.”

He rolled his shoulders, tucking the wings back out of existence. He eyed her defiantly but kept quiet. 

Perhaps he was more tired than she suspected. No argument, no bargaining, no threats? If he was a whelp he would have—but he wasn't a whelp. He wasn't Lilim. She had to continuously remind herself not to judge him by Lilim standards. 

First, some food. She led him back through the spawn mayhem—only a few were still actively wrestling, the rest having crawled off into corners to nap in piles—down the hall to the kitchen. It was empty.

She grabbed a bowl of already prepared stew for Lucifer and a well proportioned slice of meat for herself. "Next ashfall we'll track Lania and make her pay."

He tilted the bowl back and forth, watching the porridge slide from side to the other. "What for? Everything Rillam said—I don’t think I was there against my will." 

"That's what lethe does. Supplying it to you at all is an offense to both of us."

He kept fidgeting with the bowl, his shoulders hunched. "What if I still want it?"

She recognized shame and hoped to dissipate it. "How could you not? It's lethe. That's why it's an attack, Lucifer. They knew what lethe does and knew that you didn't. They gave it to you, knowing it destroys the will, knowing it makes you crave it, knowing that it might damage your mind forever."

His fists clenched and his eyes flared. “I was manipulated and used, so they could hurt you?

Mazikeen nodded glad that he finally understood. "Yes, and we'll make them pay. Eat. Rest for one more ashfall."

“I’ve been sitting around long enough. We’ll find Lania this ashfall, I’m well enough to take care of myself.” 

Maze grinned. That was the defiance she’d been hoping for. “So be it.” 

The worms were still feasting on the moss on the ceiling of their chamber when they returned, Maze eyed them with disdain as she chose what she wanted Lucifer to wear: his best clothing, the sleeveless vest and leggings she and Izuden had picked out for him. 

"Are we going to be fighting?"

"Possibly."

"Shouldn't I wear something more suited to fighting?" he said, waving at the looser chiton and leggings he already wore.

"You wear this," Maze said pushing his best made clothes at him, "and everyone will look at you with respect. Clothes mark your rank in society."

"Why?"

"It's the way things are."

He stopped questioning and began changing into the clothes she'd set out. He finished getting dressed and, as usual, Maze inspected his attire after. She adjusted the vest and smoothed out his belt. “Sit down, I’ll outline your eyes for you.” 

He sat and looked up at the glow worms on the ceiling as she carefully drew around his eyes, tapering off to a line at the side. And then she passed the kohl to him. “Do mine?” 

He held the stick in his hand, his hands were steadier than they’d been since waking up in this place, and she hoped he would be able to do an adequate job of it. He’d done her eyes before as practice, but not for any purpose like this. 

When he was done he sat back and looked at his work. 

“How is it?” Maze asked. 

Just by the way he was studying her she knew he’d done a good job. He was looking for imperfections, and if he had to look that hard, she was sure it was fine. 

“Sandals,” she reminded him, and watched as he tied. He didn’t protest when she checked. How was she to know what skills had been affected by the lethe overdose he’d suffered? There could be fighting, she didn’t want to take any chances. They were done perfectly. “Don’t forget your cloak.”

Lucifer gave her a self-satisfied look and waved her on. They walked side by side, winding their way through the network of mostly level caverns until reaching a heavy metal door. “The offspring are the greatest treasure of the Spire,” Maze stopped to explain. 

Lucifer frowned, stepped past her and placed his hand on the door. “Maze,” his wings emerged and flexed up against his back. “All this time. You brought me here? Left me here?”

Mazikeen put her hand on his arm, but he shrugged it off. "The dames don't come in here—"

"Izuden does."

“The Spire is the most defensible structure within the stronghold. In case of an attack, the dames and the spawn are protected above all else.” Maze watched his face closely, trying to interpret his frown. Did he understand she would never allow anyone to confine him like that, ever again? “What they did to you in the dungeon is deep below here. It’s a different section of caverns cut off from the Nest.” 

“Where does this door lead?” 

“Into the Spire.”

“There’s only the one way in and out?” 

“No. There is an escape route should the stronghold be taken by enemies. But that’s not a way open to us. Pull up your cloak."

He glared, but he pulled it up, tugging the hood low over his face. She lifted the heavy bar and stepped out into the spire. Lucifer made his wings disappear. He sighed dramatically and stepped into the hall behind her. She pulled the door closed behind her and thumped the drum beside the door to let the nest minders know to come bar the door. 

Lucifer fell in behind her without a sound when she began walking. She stopped and so did he. "Lucifer?" He didn't respond. Turning back, she saw he was standing head down, drawn into himself to look non-threatening, but the glow of his eyes lit the shadow under the hood. She gritted her teeth. They were not doing this again. She regretted ever telling him to keep his head down. 

She tugged the hood down, and he looked away, closing his eyes to block the glow. "Come walk with me. Have you seen the carvings? The fire went out and he met her gaze with wide eyes. She nodded and threaded her arm through hers, as dames often did with their chosen males. He strode beside her, and while she could feel the tension in him, he gazed at the surroundings with wonder. She was done playing the game of proper Lilim. She was Mazikeen, hunter, warrior, Eldest—she would hold her head high and insist Lucifer to do the same. She would never have him show submission to Lilim again. _Never._

She steered him toward the weapons storage. Nodded to the warrior guarding the door. No one questioned her presence. Various weapons lined the walls. It was an impressive collection. One she had helped amass. “Sword or staff?” 

He examined the selection, hand trailing over the various styles, resting finally on a pointed staff. “This will do.” 

Mazikeen choose a sword with a thick sturdy blade. 

They made it outside without incident, not that she'd expected one. The dames occupied an area of the Spire separated from the nest by store rooms and guard barracks. Mazikeen took Lucifer through the side entrance used by servants and other lower ranked Lilim, and the guard snoring near the door door didn't twitch as they exited. 

"Where do we find Lania?"

"In her Den. It's a long walk. Come on."

"You know Lania isn't the shadow Lilim."

"Lania is...special. She used to be a dame. Lethe used to be more common. If you only take a small amount, you believe something you want to be real is real, and it deadens pain."

He hummed but said nothing. 

"Taking too much leaves you vulnerable. Heightened sensitivity to pain, disorientation, damage to your mind, damage to your body." She glanced at him, but he'd pulled his hood up again so she couldn't see his face. "It’s bad enough for the average Lilim. When a dame takes even a little Lethe, she loses the ability to make sprogs. Her eyes turn yellow. She's marked forever as a failure to be shunned. Lania _used_ to be a dame, do you understand?"

"She uses it?"

"Yes. Lethe is dangerous. It's one of the only things Lilim everywhere agree on. Think how easy it could be to poison an entire spire if you had a large enough supply." She turned again to avoid the busy marketplace. 

"It doesn't seem that hard to obtain." Lucifer's tone dripped with disdain. 

"You were targeted. If I knew you were on lethe, I would have done more to stop you." 

"I would have resisted."

"It would have been worth it."


	18. Confronting Lania

****

# Chapter 18 Confronting Lania

****

Lucifer recognized the lanes as they drew near the dungeon. This area was familiar. Seeing it cleared the haze from his memories. With each landmark they passed, it settled deeper into him how many times he'd walked these lanes seeking the relief lethe offered. Shame burned within him at how easily he’d been drawn in and manipulated. Now that he understood the lie in their friendship, anger stirred within him. Anger was the emotion he needed to hold onto now, to stoke. There wasn’t time to indulge in a weakness like shame.

The memories of the last time he was here were vague but intense. Before ending up unsheltered through the wind, he remembered a presence. The shadow Lilim had enjoyed taking his control. Why hadn’t he fought harder?

_Lose yourself to me, give me everything you are._

The words echoed in his ear as though newly spoken. He’d surrendered to her. 

_There was a flask and he drank it, the sweetness of lethe lingered on his tongue._ He remembered wanting the Lethe to take everything away; wanting it to strip him of everything he was. He ruined everything. He deserved to be destroyed.

“Lucifer?” 

The carving of a creature with tusks adorned the entrance of a market dome. They were stopped in the alley, Maze gripping his arm. 

“I was here, this is the way I came, the markings on that wall—” he looked down the alley. “No one was around. The wind was so high it was difficult to breathe.”

_He stumbled into the wall. Pain flared, lighting up his shoulder and hands. A carving of a creature with tusks filled his vision. Why was he alone? He wanted…_

"Are you with me?" Maze asked.

He shook his head. That…that was real, but not now. He needed to focus. "I'm here. I'm fine."

“It’s too soon. You’re not ready.” Maze's expression was pinched. 

“I’m fine.” Lucifer gripped the staff in his hand. “Let’s get this done.” 

She stared at him, hard, shrugged and motioned him forward. He could do this. He needed to do this. Maze slowed to a cautious pace, checking around corners before moving from one lane to the next. 

_He'd stumbled through here, naked, confused, in pain_. Flashes ran through his mind. He swallowed a sudden taste of bile. If he hadn't wandered out into the winds, he'd still be there, his mind destroyed. “She wanted to destroy me,” he whispered.

Maze didn’t look surprised. 

He was the only one who’d had no idea how much danger he’d been in, wasn’t he? 

A rock thumped against his back. His wings threw up a cloud of ash as they whooshed into the physical plane. He spun, staff ready. Maze bared her teeth, knife in hand.

Fraq jumped down off the roof of the dome to their side. “You’re alive.” The little Lilim raced up to Lucifer and jumped at him, attaching herself to his torso with her arms and legs. He stumbled and nearly fell, but even that wasn’t enough to dislodge the pest. He stood, arm supporting her back awkwardly, not sure how to pry her off. 

Maze stepped in, pulled the clingy whelp off him and pushed her roughly away, sending Fraq sprawling in the street. Fraq stood, brushed off the ash, and lowered her head. 

Maze wasn't done. She strode forward, grabbed the whelp by her arm and shook her. “Did you know?”

Fraq whimpered and licked her lips nervously. “I tried to help. I wanted to. But Lania’s got Wen. She said if I interfered she’d wreck his mind.” 

“Wen? That’s for his mentor to worry about, not you,” Maze scolded.

Lucifer remembered Fraq telling him something about Wen. “When you told me Wen was lost, did you mean lost to lethe?”

“Yes. We were a pack. I don’t want him ruined." She kicked at the ash. "Even if he’ll just be good as a gatherer after this, he’s one of mine.”

The young Lilim trembled in Maze’s grip, and Lucifer was about to step in, but Maze let Fraq go. “She’s got your male?” 

“I saw him,” Lucifer spoke up. Maze and Fraq turned and stared at him. “At Lania’s Den. He refused to acknowledge me.”

Fraq nodded. “I didn’t know what to do.” 

“You should have told me or Dromos or Squee, despite the threats. Collect your pack and wait for my return at my dome. Now.” 

Fraq ran. 

Lucifer watched her go and then turned to Maze. “Lethe dealers are targeting the whelps?” 

“You’re not the only one to get caught in their manipulations,” Maze grumbled. 

Lucifer flicked his wings to clear them of the ash that settled. With renewed purpose, he strode at Maze's side. 

The nondescript dome with the simple hunting scenes, was familiar. He knew this place even though his memories remained hazy. He tugged at the sleeves of his tunic, straightening imaginary wrinkles. Maze drew her blades. He gripped his staff harder. Maze sliced the ties on the door flap and flung it open. She darted inside and a female howled with rage. Lucifer entered slower. He extended his wings and channelled his divinity. 

The resulting glow lit the chamber enough to make their opponents sqint. Maze was quick to use the distraction to her advantage, and narrowed in on one female in particular. 

Lucifer barred the exit, swung his staff and knocked down the only Lilim foolish enough to make an attempt to attack Maze from behind. 

Lania screeched in anger and dove forward at Maze. Maze made no sound at all, only grinning as she faced the leader of the lethe den. And then, surprisingly Maze lowered her sword arm and tossed the weapon toward Lucifer’s feet, attacking with her fists rather than with the blade.

Maze and the female rolled around the floor, and Lucifer watched the brawl. Maze was stunning. She whooped, feral and triumphant, as she bit and clawed and.. toyed with the other female. 

There were several others, one he'd knocked down, the others content to either watch their leader get beaten down without interfering or continue what they'd been doing as if nothing unusual was happening at all. Lucifer grabbed the male climbing back to his feet by the throat and pushed him against the wall. “You know who I am?” 

“Thrall.” The male hissed with disgust and bared his fangs and brought his clawed hands up to Lucifer’s arm. He looked between Lucifer and the corner where Maze fought Lania. The claws dug into Lucifer’s flesh, blood seeped from the puncture wounds, but Lucifer held the Lilim steady. 

_Thrall_. Lucifer knew that word, it referred to the lethe users by the hearth. The ones whose whole existence revolved around getting more and more lethe. 

The male choked as Lucifer tightened his hold. “You used me.” 

The fight went out of the male, he tried to smile instead. “You want more lethe? You want to feel good? Let me go, I can get it for you.”

Yes. He wanted it. But that only proved everything Maze had been telling him was true. Imitating Maze’s expression, Lucifer bared his teeth in a false smile. “Who did I spend time with here?” 

“Everyone. We all wanted—” the male gulped, and Lucifer relaxed his hold just enough to allow the Lilim to speak. “So good, even those who refuse throwbacks made excuses to be with a beast like you." Lucifer shook him and snarled. The male trembled, and his words jumbled together in his haste to answer. His expression turned desperate. "Didn’t we give you what you wanted?” 

Lucifer leaned in close, his lips against the male’s cheek. He did remember this one, he had fading scars on his chest matching the male’s claws. “And the dame who took me? The one with Power?” 

“A dame, here? No. That would never be allowed. Lania wouldn’t dare go against the Spire like that.” 

Lucifer felt his eyes start to burn, the anger over-riding the pain of the transformation. The male fainted and Lucifer let him drop.

When he turned back to Maze, she had Lania subdued, face down and pinned with her arms wrenched behind her back. Lucifer crouched down. “Hello.” 

Lania spat. Or she tried to. Maze pulled her arms back tighter and Lania cried out in pain. 

“Lucifer,” Lania tried to smile as he looked into her yellow eyes. These were not the golden-eyes he continued seeing in his memories. More memories assailed him at the sight of her. _Lania. Her hands were soothing as he came down from the sensations sweeping over him. Her fingers stroking him as she lay with him beside the hearth._

He stumbled back, wings flaring instinctively in response to maintain his balance. 

Lucifer stood up and headed toward one of the rooms, and opened the door for Maze to drag the struggling former-dame in. There it was. The mat on the floor where he’d brought countless Lilim to the heights of pleasure.

Not just pleasure thought. This was where the shadow lilim had him. 

_Flashes of pain and want and the false sense of flying and despair_. Forgetting called to him. Disgust with himself churned his stomach. He went to the shadow lilim willingly? _No_. She exploited the weakness already in him. He still _wanted_. He still wanted to forget. If Maze wasn't here the temptation to return to taking the lethe would be overwhelming.

But Maze was with him. He drew strength from her presence, and shook free of the call for more. 

“You know what I’m going to ask.” He let his wings glow brighter and he reached for his divinity. Lania squirmed under Maze’s hold, but to no avail. 

He let his glamour fade completely this time, the familiar feeling of fire licked his skin, and he looked at her with his true self. Saw the horror of it reflected in her eyes.

“I can’t. She’ll have me killed if I tell.” Lania gasped. 

"The truth. Now."

The fire within him flared into a towering inferno and he directed it at Lania. The former dame gasped and stilled in Maze's grip. Her expression went slack and she stared at him as if nothing else existed. 

"She has power, don’t make me name her. She’ll have me killed."

Lucifer saw into Lania, all the way to the empty place a soul should be. She spoke the truth. Using his divinity to draw the truth from her left him empty and drained. He stumbled against the wall. "Anilith.” 

The memories descended on him like an avalanche. The power encroaching on his mind, the darkness and despair of the dungeon being brought forth, used against him. And she offered him lethe and he took it. 

Maze spared him a glance and turned back to Lania. “Is this true?”

Lania lay defeated. “Yes.” 

“Lucifer, did Anilith couple with you?”

He nodded. 

Whatever happened next got lost in the rush of noise in his own head as he struggled to stay on his feet. When his head cleared, Maze had Lania on the floor, her knee in the middle of Lania's back, hissing threats of the most vile tortures into Lania's ear. “Who else knows? We need proof,” Maze asked. 

“No one. If she ever suspected we knew she coupled with a beast, she’d assassinate us all.” Lania gasped as Maze pressed on her harder.

“Why do this? Why would the Soverain risk exposure to lethe?” Maze asked, but no answers were given. 

They were alone in this. His own memories of the event were dim. Anilith was beyond their reach, she could do whatever she wanted and they were powerless against her. But like Lania said, what would it do to Anilith’s reputation if others knew she coupled with a beast? They could only fight her by turning the game around. Battle her on her own terms…

"Maze." He called from where he sat leaning against the wall. "Stop.”

Maze looked over at him, her face twisted with rage. There would be no stopping her. If Lania died, there would be no proving who was behind this. No one here knew anything of value. The only solution would be to lure Anilith back in. And to do that… he needed to be back here. 

“I need to come back here," he told Maze.

And her response was no less than what he’d expected. Maze leapt off of Lania and slammed into him. Her hands tangled in the collar of his tunic, pushed him against the wall, her face only a breath away from his. "Never. You will return home and stay there! Even if I have to tie you down."

Lucifer glanced at Lania to make sure she was watching. Of course she was. He made a show of averting his gaze from Maze, and licked his lips in the submissive fashion he'd seen in Fraq's males. He lowered his voice to barely a whisper, "I have a plan."

"You-you"—she shook him—"you will come with me." She dragged him out of the room and into the next one. "What is the meaning of this? Why am I not making her pay right now, Lucifer?"

"Killing her will solve nothing. It’s Anilith."

"There’s nothing I can do about that. Lania deserves all I plan to do to her and more."

"What if we can fight Anilith. What if we give her what she wants, draw her out?"

“We don’t know what she wants.”

“We know she wants me.”

"You almost died, Lucifer!"

“Anilith can get away with whatever she wants. She can manipulate us, turn us against each other and there’s nothing we can do to prevent that. I know what I am to the Lilim, Maze. Why must no one know Anilith has coupled with a beast?” 

“Lilim blood must not be mixed with that of the lower creatures. It’s taboo, punishable by death, for dames to produce sprog with beasts. If we had proof she coupled with you—” 

"I didn't have you beside me. I’ll return here, we can draw her out. "

"No. I won’t let you do this. You're still recovering from the last time."

"Lania uses lethe, doesn’t she? That's what you said. For how long? How has she survived all this time?"

“None of them have overused to the point of losing themselves. You have. You came so close to losing everything. Is it because you crave more?" She shook him. "I should have foreseen this.” 

“You know it’s our best chance of finding who we want.”

Maze released him and paced across the room. “It’s a bad idea.” 

Lucifer grabbed Maze's arms and drew her in. "You have to be my handler for this to work."

She twisted in his grasp, but he held tight. 

"You said an attack on me is equal to an attack on you. We can make this work. Rillam said there was coin to be had. A lot of coin. Tell them your anger was in being left out of the loop. Over letting me wander out into the winds. They think I'm no more than a beast. They call you my handler, Maze. We can use this to our advantage."

She pushed him off and he stumbled back several steps. He didn’t expect her to be happy with the plan. “Maze—” 

“No.” She turned on him again, her jaw clenched tight. “How can you be okay with this? You hate when anyone refers to me as your handler.” 

“So do you.” 

“I won't watch you ruin yourself.” 

“You want to prove who was behind this? This is how. If we stop here, something like this will happen again.”

“And you want to keep coming here and take the lethe that comes with it.” She narrowed her eyes, walked slowly around him. 

Lucifer kept his breath steady. He refused to respond. 

She trailed her hand across his chest. “You’re no more than a thrall to them.” She drew him close, pressed her lips to his throat and dragged her teeth across his skin. “If that’s what you want, I can do it for you better than any of these can. You want me to feed you lethe, keep you content even as I strip away everything you are?” 

“Enough!” 

She smiled predatorily, wrapped her arm around his back. “You said it yourself, Lucifer. I own you. I’m your handler. I can do what I want.” And her arm crept up until her fingers caressed his feathers. 

He snapped his wings as his eyes flared, and grabbed her wrist and forced her away from him. 

Maze eyed him critically. " _Are_ you doing this to get more lethe, Lucifer?” 

“No.” It was difficult to catch his breath, he couldn’t get control, why couldn't he? 

“Anilth needs to be stopped.” Maze concluded. 

Lucifer frowned and let her go. “What?” 

“You’re right. It’s the best way to get our prey to fall into our—your—lap. I just needed to make sure what we’re going to do to get there disturbs you as much as it does me.” 

The fire within him cooled. “That’s what that was?” 

“Are you going to be capable of playing your role in this?” 

“Of course I am. It was my idea.” 

She laughed. “We’ll see. You want me to play along, we’ll do this as I say.”

Lucifer’s mouth felt dry. “How are you going to do that without scaring everyone off?” 

She sighed and he felt a peculiar prickling sensation as the air around her shimmered and her face morphed, the boney side smoothing out as horns emerged from her temples, curling upward and back, and her mouth widened and her jaw protruded outwards, fangs growing up from her lower teeth. “You’re not the only one with power.” Even her voice sounded different.

“Yeah. I think that will do.” Lucifer conceded. 

Maze glared. “If anyone interferes with you, I’m getting you out of here. Deal?” 

He nodded, stepped up close to her again. “Deal.” He kissed the side of her mouth, avoiding the fangs. “We’re going to trap her, and make her wish she never got between us.”


	19. Saving the Whelps

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# Chapter 19 Saving the Whelps

****

It was the most slug-brained idea she’d ever heard.

And Lucifer convinced her to go along with it. That made them both idiots. “Follow my lead,” she warned him. 

Lucifer grinned and rolled his shoulders as his wings disappeared. Mazikeen allowed her glamour to fade and her own face settled back into place. So, he was going to be smug about it was he? She would show him just how bad the whole idea was. With a grunt, Mazikeen grabbed his arm and shoved him into the main area of the den. He stumbled and fell to his knees. She tried to make eye contact, to reassure herself that he understood the role she played, but he displayed nothing but submission. 

Mazikeen straightened her posture, and pushed a frisson of power into the room around her to ensure the attention of all those around her. Lania was only now dragging herself out of the private room. Weak. Mazikeen kept hold of Lucifer’s arm and cornered the lethe dealer. “You damaged him, you’ll deal with the consequences.”

“I only allowed a sustaining dose. Someone else gave him more. We didn’t damage him.” Lania cowered and braced herself for another beating. 

"Apparently _this_ is all he’s good for. I am a wall-guard, _vowed_ to stand watch. The angel requires supervision. If you can provide that, we have something to discuss."

"And why would I believe that you accept _me_ to handle him?" Lania leaned against the wall, her confidence returning.

"I don't trust you. I do need coin, and from what I’ve heard, coin is something he produced for you in abundance. Why shouldn’t I take advantage of an opportunity? I deserve something for the trouble of handling him, don’t I?”

Lania laughed, and Maze gritted her teeth. “You come here threatening me and mine, and now—”

“You used what is _mine_ for your own gain. That is not a slight I take lightly. You’re to return him each ash-fall before wind-rise, with the coin you make off him. Take my offer. In exchange, I’ll let you continue to breathe”

Lania barked a laugh. "How am I to feed and care for him? If I am to take over your duties, there are costs involved. It is time consuming and expensive to provide adequate care," she cajoled. 

Out of the corner of her eye, Mazikeen saw one of Lania’s cohorts, a female, step up behind Lucifer and caress his face with the back of her hand. He automatically leaned into her, his head tilting toward her hand, mouth opening ever so slightly. 

Did he know what he was doing? 

“Keep what you need to compensate for his care,” Mazikeen accepted Lania’s counter offer. 

“And the lethe?” Lania asked, glancing past Mazikeen, grinning at the display Lucifer was making. “He will want more. That is what our patrons are here for.” 

“You left him damaged and exposed to the winds.” The anger slipped back into Mazikeen's tone. 

“An unfortunate miscalculation." Lania pushed past Mazikeen, confidence returning to her body language. "His coupling partner was over enthusiastic with her gifts. It won’t happen again.” 

"He was damaged before then. _Tortured_. It will not happen again."

"We gave him no more than he asked for." Lania hummed. “You don’t even know what you’re missing, do you?” She reached on the shelf for a jar and pried open the lid. “See how the angel reacts?” 

It was too soon to be pushing this poison on him again. Mazikeen licked her finger and dipped it into the powder. A thin covering of powder stuck to her skin. 

When she turned, Lucifer had stood and crowded near her. His eyes were on her. Not on her, on her hand, and what she offered. He was already swaying, and she took his elbow to hold him steady. “This is what you want?” 

He nodded, opened his mouth, and licked her finger. He let out a soft moan and leaned forward, taking her hand in his, wrapping his lips around her finger, sucking every bit of powder off her skin that he could. 

The effects were quick. His eyes lost their focus and tracked things around the room she couldn’t see, his body swayed. “More?” he asked, reaching for her hand again.

But before he could touch her, his knees buckled. Mazikeen grabbed him before he fell and guided him down to the floor. He stared up at her and grinned, reaching for her, but she stepped back. The Lilim who’d been slithering up beside him earlier knelt at his side, and dipped down to catch his lips with hers, probably hoping for some left over lethe to enter her system. 

Lucifer reached up and caught the female’s shoulder, pulling her closer. 

“You don’t want to try him yourself?” Lania asked. 

Mazikeen glanced back with disdain. “He’s not our kind,” she answered. “What others care to couple with isn’t my concern.” 

Lania purred at Mazikeen's answer. "A true handler then. We understand each other. Yes? We will feed him twice per ashfall. No meat per his preferences. Provide him with the lethe he wants, and release him to return to you before wind rise. We keep half the coin that he brings in."

Lucifer moaned behind her, the sound muffled as the female closed her mouth over his. "Half?" She laughed. "You will feed him, provide him with no more lethe than I just gave him, ensure he comes to no harm, and you, personally, will escort him to and from my dome each ashfall. You may keep one third of the coin he brings in."

Lania looked past Mazikeen to the group coupling behind her. The sounds of pleasure coming from Lucifer made Mazikeen’s blood boil. How dare they—how dare Lucifer— 

He’d almost died from the lethe use. These Lilim left him exposed to the wind, barely able to walk, unable to communicate. How could he be so eager to take up with them again? Anger surged through her, at Lucifer, at herself for allowing this to continue... 

A pitiful wail drowned out the rest of her sentence. It wasn’t from Lucifer or any of his partners. He seemed more than delighted to be holding the hips of the Lilim female, guiding her higher where he could reach her with his mouth. A male had joined beside them, his hand seeking under Lucifer’s tunic. 

The cry sounded again, from one of the back rooms. 

Mazikeen darted forward and Lania grabbed her arm to stop her from going further. 

“That is a private room. None of your business.” 

“What are you involved in?”

“I only provide space—” 

But Mazikeen shook Lania off and strode forward. She’d seen no sign of the whelps Fraq had told her about thus far. 

Solid doors were rare in the collective, but Lania seemed to have an abundance of them within her dome. This door was barred from the outside. Mazikeen pushed the bar from the door and swung it open. What she found inside made her feel ill. 

Whelps. Three males. They lay sprawled out and sleeping on thin bedrolls, shivering. One, smaller than the others with large grey horns curling around his ears and small fangs poking up past his lips, lay curled on his side, keening in misery.

"You will release them. Whelps are off limits.”

“They came to us.” Lania complained. “They’re not nestlings anymore.”

Mazikeen growled. “Whelps have always been off limits. Everyone knows this. They are still under the protection of the nest-minders” 

“I'm keeping them safe. We'll never lose another thrall to the winds. We only provide what they want—” 

“Damaging a whelp, damages the Lilim.” Mazikeen spat, tempted to end the entire deal. But Lania was too young to remember the days before collectives and walls were forged. Here in Anilith’s collective, with the abundance of dames and the protection of the nest, Lilim young could be taken for granted. But Maze remembered back when sprog and spawn died of ash-lung and hunger, and the constant threat from beasts and other warring Lilim tribes threatened to wipe out the Lilim completely. 

Lania backed against the wall and Mazikeen followed, tempted to end the charade and rip Lania's throat out. 

“You will not harm another," Maze ordered. Lania sagged, breathing fast. "I am not the one you should fear over this." She waved in the direction of the still whimpering whelp. "It would be a shame if Dromos found out what you’ve been doing here." She waited a moment for the fear to bloom across Lania's expression again. "And he will know where to find the next one that goes missing, won't he?"

"Y-y-you wouldn't! You gain more by keeping me alive!"

Mazikeen barred her teeth. “You threaten the young of our kind and you think I care more about coin?"

Lania paled. “No more whelps. Our deal for the angel stands?”

“Yes. The deal stands, for now,” Mazikeen growled. "The whelps leave with me.” She crouched down and inspected each in turn. Two were simply sleeping and didn’t seem too badly damaged as she woke them, but the one on his side keening worried her. His eyes were dim. She'd seen this with Lucifer. The whelp was cold and in pain at the slightest touch. 

The whelp cried out in pain as she lifted him to give him sips from the waterskin full of sleeping draught. He quieted, but his eyes remained open and unseeing. He was weak, possibly beyond help. She hoped this wasn't Fraq's Wen. Now that he was unconscious, she wrapped him in her cloak, and lifted him in her arms. It was time to leave. 

She hoped Lucifer was well enough to walk out of here, assuming she could get his focus off sex long enough to get him moving.

The most aware of the whelps touched her arm. "Where are we?" 

"A bad place, but you're coming with me now." 

He nodded. 

"Help the other up and follow me."

She stood and waited until the whelp had followed her instructions. "Follow close."

In the main room, Lucifer was still preoccupied. The male lay half atop Lucifer nipping at his throat. Lucifer's belt was undone and his tunic rucked up.

"Get up, Lucifer. We're leaving now."

He frowned, and for a brief moment she feared he would refuse. But he blinked, pushed aside those who were interested him and focused his attention on her. "Maze?”

Mazikeen adjusted the unconscious whelp in her arms and freed one hand to pull Lucifer to his feet. “Fasten your belt.” 

Lucifer looked down at his state of disarray, fumbled with the belt, and secured it well enough. “Fix yourself. We’re headed outside.” 

He knelt and retied the sandals, then regarded the whelp in her arms. “Oh. That’s…” he cleared his throat and retrieved his cloak from the floor where it had been discarded earlier. It was big enough to fit over the slender shoulders of the other two males walking side by side. 

Maze kept a close eye on Lucifer as they made their way through the lanes. This was too much. The way he’d responded to just that small amount of Lethe she offered was enough to doubt their entire plan. 

“Are you with me?” 

Lucifer walked slightly behind the two males, his footstep stumbling periodically. “I am.” He glanced over his shoulder, quiet for a while. “We’re being followed.” 

Maze nodded, but didn’t dare turn to look. “How many?” 

“Two. From the lethe den,” he mumbled. 

“Good. I wasn’t sure how aware you were.” 

“I’m aware,” he assured her. “Maze—” 

“Let them follow. They’re to think we have nothing to hide. Come walk at my side.” 

He glanced at the males, still walking side by side with his cloak over them. “But—” 

“They’re fine.” She assured him, and he quickened his pace to catch up. 

“There are other options,” Mazikeen whispered. “I won’t have you start taking that poison again.” 

“What options?” Lucifer asked. 

“I’ll keep asking around. Someone will know something.” 

He shook his head. “No. This will work.”

“I don’t like it.” Maze glanced at him, but Lucifer didn’t look like he had any doubts at all. 

“You don’t have to. We’ll find her, and end this.” 

They were quiet the rest of the way to her dome by the wall. Fraq and her two males were piled together by the fire, sleeping. Fraq woke when they entered and she immediately rushed to Mazikeen’s side, tugging at the male in her arms. 

“Let him sleep.” She let Fraq take him, place him by the fire and reclaimed her cloak. The other two from the den joined Bof and Grog, and all four males snuggled close, curling around each other. The larger of the two groaned, beginning to tremble. She sighed and passed the flask to Fraq. These two would need a strong pack. "Give them two sips each, and have Bof and Grog keep them warm."

While Fraq dealt with the males, Maze set about making some scalded ooze porridge. She kept a close eye on Lucifer. He sat away from the others, on the far side of the dome, his back against the wall. She gave him his space and set out enough bowls for everyone, the drugged whelps would eat when they woke. Fraq handed Bof and Grog their portion. They stayed curled around their sleeping charge as they ate, and Fraq wrapped herself around Wen to eat hers. 

Maze retrieved the flask and brought it and the porridge to Lucifer. She sat at his side, and gave him the porridge first. 

He accepted and started to eat. “I didn’t think I’d be welcome back here.” 

Maze punched his thigh, not with a lot of force, but enough to make him wince and look her way. “This is your home.” 

“Is it?” 

" _I_ am your home,” she glanced at her trophy pouch, they hadn’t spoken of it yet, and she didn’t know how to explain what it meant to her that he’d saved it. “Lucifer, I found what you left for me. The pouch. And the coin. Why? There were hardly any provisions left in the dome, what were you saving the coin for?” 

“I wanted to give you the pouch sooner,” Lucifer admitted. “But I didn’t know how. I was at fault for what happened and—I didn’t want to make things worse.” 

Mazikeen wrapped her fingers around his. “I should have protected you better.” 

He continued. “I saved the coin for you to use as a bribe to be free from the wall-guards. Rillam told me I could make more at Lania’s Den than at the Leviathan's Pit.” 

She squeezed his hand. “If that's where Anilith wants me to be, there’s not enough coin in the collective to buy my way out of it. Rillam would know that.” She placed a flask in Lucifer’s hand. “I added a sleeping draught. Drink it.” 

He held the flask, fine tremors shook his hands. “I’ll be fine.” 

“You won't. Sleep will help ease the side effects of going back on the lethe.” 

He drank it, and then tilted his head back against the wall. Maze watched over him as it took effect, his eyes drifted shut, and his head lolled. She eased him onto his side and draped her cloak over him. 

Bof and Grog had fallen asleep with their charges. That left her and Fraq. 

“Should I run and get the nest-minder?” Fraq asked. 

Mazikeen shook her head. “It’s too close to wind rise. No harm will come to them sleeping here.” 

“Do you think Wen will be okay?” 

Mazikeen took a breath. The dull look in the eyes didn’t bode well. “No. But I’m sure he was strong to last as long as he did.” 

Fraq clenched her jaw. “Did you kill them? Did you make them pay for this?” 

“Not yet. I still need them for now.” 

The whelp’s hands fisted, anger taking over. “Why not?”

Mazikeen eyed the whelp, taking her measure. Fraq was a good pack leader; she was protective of her males. She liked Lucifer. Mazikeen needed a loyal aide in this endeavor, and Fraq was the Lilim to fill the position. "The Spire is involved."

The whelp's eyes widened and her coloring paled. "The Spire?"

"Yes. Are you afraid to go further?"

Fraq glanced back at the pile of males sleeping by the fire. Her gaze lingered on the far too still bundle of Wen on the other side. "They took my male." She nodded toward Lucifer. "They took yours." Her expression turned hard. "Spire or no, I want to end them."

Mazikeen clapped her on the back. "Good! We need the dealers to believe that I am selling Lucifer's services in exchange for a cut of the coin. The dame who hurt him won't come back if she thinks I am lurking in the shadows, so I must be standing duty on the wall. Do you understand?"

Fraq thought about it for a moment before speaking. "You need a stand-in on the wall. Me."

"Exactly!"

"How will you watch? They know what you look like. And you are taller than me, will no one notice?"

"I have power enough to hide my features. My post is at the farthest edge of the wall. The only one who goes that far is the whelp that delivers the food. You seem to have a way with the males. Either convince him to keep quiet or pay him. I will give you coin. No one else will look closely. How is your leatherworking?"

"Passable. Why?"

"We have a wind to make a set of armor for you that passes as mine from a distance."

Fraq looked back at the males again. "What about them? They're lost without me. And Wen…"

"They will go with Wen to the nest. Squee and Dromos have experience in easing the suffering of whelps on Lethe. If your males, Bof and Grog, are house-trained, then you may keep them here."

Fraq spluttered with indignation. "House-trained? What kind of pack leader do you think I am? They'll behave. No breaking. No stealing. No messes."

"Good. We have a lot of work to do."


	20. Undercover

****

# Chapter 20 Undercover

****

Lucifer batted at the hand shaking his shoulder. He wanted to sleep. Needed to sleep. 

"Lucifer. The winds will die down soon. You need to eat before Lania gets here."

He pried his eyes open, and saw a blurry image of Maze above him. He reached for her hand and missed. His muscles ached and his head hurt, so he squeezed his eyes closed and wrapped around her. 

"Lucifer. Wake up. Eat." 

He _knew_ his thoughts were slow, but the important things fell into place. Lania. The Den. Catching the dame. He sighed, dragged himself upright. 

Maze gripped his chin and tilted his face up to her. He stared into her eyes, trying to bring them into focus. 

A face popped up over Maze’s shoulder, catching Lucifer's attention. Bright blue scales, fading out across the cheeks and forehead, surrounded the even brighter blue, slit-pupiled eyes. Derd, one of the males they'd taken from Lania. 

Lania. Her scales were blue, too. Lucifer loved them and the way they shimmered in the firelight... 

"He looks like Wen," Derd said. 

Maze released Lucifer and bellowed, "Fraq!"

Fraq was busy tending to the armor she had to wear as Mazikeen’s stand-in for wall duty and growled at Bof. "Bof! Get Derd away from Mazikeen. You know better!"

"Yes, Fraq." Bof scuttled away from the fire, and wrapped an arm around Derd's shoulders. Bof was the smallest of the five whelps living in Maze's dome, but by far the most reliable of the males. The tip of the spikes protruding from the top of his head barely reached Derd's ears, but Lucifer had seen enough Lilim to know size didn’t equal maturity.

Maze sighed and turned her attention back to Lucifer. “Steady your eyes on me. Can you focus?”

He tried, but a jar fell from the shelf beside the hearth and broke, and Fraq yelled at Skoot and Grog to get away from the fire.

Maze’s voice became worried. “Do you feel dizzy?” 

Dizzy was a bad sign. The lethe, even the reduced dose Maze allowed, took its toll. The room felt uneven, as though it were moving and Maze let him lie back down again without making him answer. 

He couldn’t focus. These were simple tests, focus on her eyes, maintain eye contact without drifting. 

“You need time to rest.” 

“I’ll rest after,” he mumbled. 

Maze placed her hand on his arm. “Are you cold?” 

Was he? It was always cold, did she mean more than usual?

“You were chilled last wind-rise when I gave you the sleeping draught.”

"I don't remember." He shifted and the blanket dragged across the raised scratch marks a female had left on his back last ashfall. 

"Lucifer. You need to eat."

He sat up again. Skoot and Grog rolled around the far side of the dome, snapping and snarling. It was play, but with undercurrents of something more. The way they grappled and held on an extra moment, their bites lingering… 

Maze placed the bowl in his hands and he pulled his attention away from the whelps. 

"What makes them not whelps anymore?"

"Training." She sat beside him, her shoulder pressed to his.

Lucifer took a few bites. "Wen can't train. Does he stay a whelp?"

"A gatherer will take him on, or Dromos, maybe, if he thinks Wen can help in the nest. A place will be found for him."

"And Derd?" Bof was showing the whelp how to grind dried mushrooms for the third time since Lucifer's gaze had been drawn to them.

"He's not as addled, and will improve more."

He swallowed. "And me?"

“You’re not Lilim.” She tipped his chin up to look at her. “I like you the way you are.”

The winds still hadn't calmed, so Lucifer leaned back against the wall of the dome. Grog and Skoot had shed their tunics and their wrestling was now interspersed with soft licks and caresses. Fraq paced near the door flap. She took her part in this farce so serious that it was clear to see she was well on her way to becoming a warrior. 

Maneuvering to get ready in a small space with so many bodies was a feat unto itself, but soon, Maze was dressed in her armor, and Lucifer had on his chiton and leggings. He couldn't hide the grimace as he reached for the laces of his sandals. He needed his morning dose of lethe. Maze brushed his fingers aside and tied them herself. "Lucifer. This has to stop. I won't help kill you."

"Just a little while longer, Maze. Couldn't you feel it?"

"Feel what? My rage as I watch them—"

"Power. I felt it late in the ashfall. Outside the Den. She was near, I know it."

"And you didn't say anything?"

"When did I have a chance between the lethe and your sleep draught? I felt it. If she doesn't come for me this ashfall, it will be soon."

Maze looked sour. "Very well. Up you get.” She grabbed his wrist and helped him stand. It took a moment for the room to stop spinning, but she didn’t let go until he was steady. “Losing your appetite for sex?” she asked. 

He scoffed. “Hardly.”

It was time to go. Lania’s voice called from outside the door flap. “Send him out.” 

Maze untied the door flap and pushed it aside. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Lucifer nodded and ducked out the door where Lania waited, scowling. How many times did he have to listen to the former dame rant about how escorting a thrall was beneath her dignity. He kept his head down. He wasn’t beneath her dignity when she wanted what he could provide, was he? That brought a smile to his lips. He knew what she desired. That was the key. There was more than just coin she got out of her arrangement with Maze. 

“More trouble than you’re worth,” Lania mumbled. “You better prove your usefulness soon, or even she is going to get tired of you.” 

But Lucifer knew it was all hot air. It wasn’t about usefulness to each other for him and Maze, they were partners. 

…

Mazikeen saw it all, and hated every moment of it. 

With her glamour hiding her features, she entered the Lethe den and took her usual place in the far corner. No one noticed her there. Mostly because they weren’t supposed to. The power could be manipulated to repel attention just as easily as attract it. 

Lucifer came in just behind Lania, his cloak and his clothing were removed and placed aside. He joined several Lilim lounging on a pile of furs and stretched out. Lania dipped her finger in the Lethe bowl, Lucifer took her hand and licked it off. Sucking obscenely to get every last bit. 

It had been the same routine each ashfall. Lilim arrived, and he enthusiastically joined them in whatever pleasures they had in mind. Most of the encounters took place in the common area. How anyone preferred the experience of coupling while dulled by drugs, Mazikeen didn’t understand. Their movements and technique were sloppy and uncoordinated. Lucifer deserved more attentive and refined partners to match his skill. 

It bothered her more when he followed his partners into the back rooms where she couldn't keep watch over him. 

He often didn't emerge from those encounters on his own. Lania or one of her lackeys retrieved him and returned him to the hearth. They provided food and drink after those encounters, and soon Lucifer would rejoin the other thralls lounging on the furs as though everything was fine despite the way his hands trembled and the bruised circles under his eyes depened. He kept telling her it was fine. 

It wasn’t. Mazikeen’s anger burned hotter each time. If she never had to hear the word thrall again, it would be too soon. 

Lucifer offered a slight smile to the newest Lilim paying him attention. A female, hooded eyes, forked tongue and fangs, she leaned down and bit Lucifer’s shoulder, leaving marks. His breath caught, a mixed expression of pain and hunger. The long tongue flicked out and licked at the reddened skin where her teeth had left their mark, and Lucifer released a sigh. 

Mazikeen was on her feet before she was fully aware of what she was doing, grabbed the offending female’s arm, and shoved her out of the way. “My turn.” 

The female apparently wasn’t interested enough to fight for her right to first dibs and bowed out. Thankfully the glamour held. Mazikeen threw coin down on the floor and Lania’s helpers scrambled to get at it. 

Lucifer stared at her, but didn’t argue when she pointed at the private room. He grinned and led the way. Mazikeen slammed the door shut behind them. A solid door. A door that was difficult to hear through when it was closed.

“I’ve had enough.” 

Lucifer blinked at her. “Oh?” 

He didn’t flinch when she strode up and grabbed his arm. “You’re tired of watching? You want a turn?” 

She grabbed his wrist. “I’m tired of this game. I’m going to put an end to this and take you home.” 

“We agreed this was the best way.” 

“You did.” She lisped, the fangs getting in the way of forming her words properly. Frustration took over and she let go of the glamour, her own face slipping back into place. “It’s getting late. Wind-rise will come soon. The ruse didn’t work, Anilith isn't coming back.” 

“We can’t stop yet.” 

“No more lethe. I forbid it.” 

He pulled away. “Forbid it, do you?” 

She glared. “You’re deteriorating. How much have they been giving you? Is it more than what I agreed?”

“More than my allotted dose? No. But if you’re offering.”

She wanted to scream and hit and bite. 

Lucifer smirked. “Are you sure it’s the lethe you're upset about and not something else?” 

“Like what?” 

The corner of his mouth turned up. “You’ve been watching me couple with how many Lilim over the past hands of ashfalls, and you haven’t touched me once back at your dome.” 

“ _Our_ dome.” 

“You don’t like when I’m with other Lilim, do you?” he teased. 

Mazikeen growled. “Why should I care?” 

“Because you don’t have control. You like being in control, don’t you Maze?” He paused, a far away look came over his face a moment before grabbing her hand. “Maze, your glamour, now!” 

There was just enough time to reestablish her glamour, before Lucifer stepped up to her, and licked at her neck. “I sense her, Anilith is near,” he whispered. "You know what happens in here. You have to—"

Mazikeen snarled and shoved him to the floor. He yelped, but grinned as she straddled him and dragged her claws along the outlines of his ribs. He shuddered and arched his back. 

" _Yes_."

"You like that?" She leaned forward, letting the fangs scrape his throat. 

Lucifer groaned. “Mmhmm. You have all kinds of talents I haven’t experienced yet, don’t you?” 

Mazikeen brought her hand up under his back, pulling him closer— 

And the door opened. 

A wave of power swept through the small room, overwhelming Mazikeen's awareness. Lucifer's expression turned pained. 

"BEGONE." The word twisted and drilled its way into Mazikeen's mind. It took all the focus she had to fend off the intrusion. Lucifer, compromised by lethe as he was, didn’t stand a chance to resist. Mazikeen scuttled away from Lucifer, playing the final act of her part in this. Lucifer's hand spasmed against her arm and his gaze found hers, eyes pleading. She turned her head away.

Mazikeen stumbled into the hall, but made sure to leave the door open. They couldn't risk being overwhelmed by numbers after all this. The patrons were going about their normal business as if they heard nothing. There was no sign of extra warriors or attendants. Of course, Anilith wouldn’t want witnesses to her escapades. No guards were needed; with the kind of power Anilith exerted, the whole place could catch fire and no one would be the wiser. 

Satisfied for the moment, Mazikeen raced back to the room. Anilith, wrapped in shadow as she was, had lost all interest in Mazikeen after the order. All the force of her power to command was brought to bear on Lucifer alone. 

As Mazikeen snuck back into the room she realised Aniliths own ego would be responsible for her downfall. 

“ _Show me who you are on the inside_ ,” the voice shrouded by shadow demanded. 

Lucifer thrashed side to side, a scream ripped from his throat like Mazikeen hadn't heard since the fiery lake. His wings unfurled and flames consumed his flesh, burning away his glamour. Mazikeen froze in horror at the scene until Lucifer stopped screaming, drawing in ragged, fast breaths. 

“ _You know how to ease your pain_ ,” the voice purred. Anilith placed a flask on the floor beside where Lucifer lay. He started to reach, fingers grasping at the container. 

It jolted Mazikeen out of her horrified staring. "ENOUGH!" She poured her own power into the command, and it made the shadow's hand pause. Mazikeen followed it with a punch carried from her hip all the way through, aiming for a space on the other side of the shadow's head. The glamour fell away from Anilith as she hit the floor, dazed. 

Mazikeen's stomach jumped and her mouth ran dry. The Soverain on the floor, one leg draped across Lucifer's waist, her head pillowed on his wing. He rolled to his side, knocking her entirely to the floor as he curled in on himself, shaking and breathing hard. 

"Lucifer?"

He bolted up, stopping short when he saw his own skin, his burned appearance. And then he saw the flask. The flask he’d told her before certainly contained enough lethe tainted water to destroy his mind completely. 

She wasn’t fast enough. He reached out and grabbed it, lifted the cap, and brought it to his mouth. After one swallow he stopped, and looked down at the Soverain laying beside him. Mazikeen bridged the distance and placed her hand on his shoulder. “Give me the flask.”

He refused, ignoring Mazikeen completely. Anilith groaned, and Lucifer shuddered, his glamour settling back over his features. His expression was hard and his eyes flamed. 

“You.” His wings extended and he crouched above Anilith as she lay dazed. Light filled the room as the divinity in his feathers grew bright. 

Mazikeen shielded her eyes with her hand, but refused to back away.

Anilith squinted up at him, but her expression was ugly, filled with contempt.

“Why?” Lucifer asked, the sound a multitude of tones as power laced his voice. 

“You dare speak to me?” Anilith resisted. 

He laughed. “Speak? Oh, we’ve done so much more.” The light from Lucifer’s wings intensified. 

Mazikeen squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear so much light. 

“Wings.” Anilith answered breathlessly, “If I birthed a sprog with wings, we’d never need an angel again. I’d have my own divinity to harvest as needed.” 

“Lucifer’s not Lilim.” Mazikeen kept her face turned away, she didn’t need to see the Soverain to hear the pain in her voice. “You would break Mother’s decree for wings? You know the penalty for diluting Lilim blood with that of beasts. What would you have done had you produced such a creature?” 

The entire room was consumed in light and flame. Anilith answered, her voice oddly flat. “No one would know. Another secret for the dungeon.”

“You would do that to your own creation?” Lucifer asked, “An offspring made to your choosing, and you would punish it for being what you designed?” 

“Yes,” Anilith answered, the truth the only option she had. 

If Mazikeen told Lucifer to stop, would he? _She kept silent_. 

The Soverain began to scream and continued until she ran out of breath. The room grew silent. The light faded, and Mazikeen dared to open her eyes again. 

Anilith lay with her mouth open in silent horror. 

Lucifer lay on the floor beside the Soverain, the flask still gripped in his hand. Mazikeen rushed to his side, feeling for a pulse. _Don’t let him be dead_. But no, he still breathed. 

The flask was empty. He drank it? Knowing what it would do to him? She’d have to send for Squee. Dromos had helped him recover once, he would do it again.

But Anilith groaned. Mazikeen glanced over, weary of the threat the Soverain still posed, and that was when she saw it. Yellow eyes. 

Lucifer hadn’t drank the lethe in the flask. He’d given it to Anilith.

The Soverain lay shivering, weak and pathetic in her nakedness. 

Mazikeen turned to the Soverain. “You’ll be exiled. Limbs broken, left helpless in the sulfur fields for the wargs to devour when our collective hears of your crime.” 

“You blinded me, took my sight.” Anilith rolled onto her side, sobbing, arm raised protectively over her face. “No, Mazikeen, mercy.” 

Was that all Anilith thought they’d taken from her? Mazikeen laughed. “Release me of my vow. Give me full rights to the angel. He’s mine.” 

“Anything. Yes. Help me, sister,” Anilith reached out. 

Mazikeen took a comb from Anilith's hair. It was intricately designed, the handle in the shape of Anilith's personal symbol—a snake with a female head and arms like pincers. She turned back to Lucifer, who was already beginning to sit up. When he looked again at Anilith, his wings snapped open, light once more bursting forth. Maze placed her hand on his arm. “It’s done.” 

Lucifer sagged back to the floor. "What now?"

"We leave her here. She got herself here, she can get herself back."

"No-ooo," Anilith wailed.

He raised his head. "You're letting her live?"

"We own her now. She's released me from the vow, and I've taken the trophy to prove it." She held up the comb. She considered and searched Anilith's clothes for anything better. 

Lucifer let his head fall back down. “Can we go home?’


	21. Finale

****

# Chapter 21 Finale

****

He knew he should feel elated. They won, didn’t they? Maze collected his clothing, dressed him. Helped put on his sandals. He was drained. The dose of lethe water he'd taken from the flask didn't begin to fill the need. Seeing Anilith defeated, humiliated, blinded by the power in his wings, gave him no satisfaction either. 

There was only emptiness inside him, and a chill that he feared would never let go. 

On the way out of Lania's Den, Traz rushed in the door, frantic and searching. Maze barely cast Anilith’s favorite warrior a look as they walked out. 

Lucifer needed to stop several times along the way to rest. His hands shook. The headache returned. A need burned inside him. There would be no more lethe now. If he could only have a little more to get him through— 

But Maze held his arm, and he knew better than to ask. The rest of the way home was a blur. A warm hearth awaited them. The four males gathered around, offering food and sitting far too close. Maze shooed them outside and Lucifer lay down on the bedroll. 

“That’s it, Anilith remains Soverain?” he asked. 

Maze sat beside him, her hand rested on his shoulder. “If they can hide the fact she’s been compromised by lethe. Eventually someone will find out. Who knows what will happen then. Many will fight for her position. Other collectives will take the opportunity to strike while we’re weak. It’s happened countless times in other collectives, power never lasts. I’m a free Lilim again, Lucifer. That's what matters.” 

“Will she keep her word?” 

Maze tossed an ornate pouch on the ground between him and the hearth. “I have her talisman pouch and the comb. If she tries to deny me, I have this to prove our claim.” 

He closed his eyes, shivers over taking his body. Maze tossed extra moss on the hearth, and prepared a flask of sleeping draught. 

Lucifer sat up and accepted the flask. Anything to end the chills and emptiness inside. Mazikeen turned and called Bof and Grog closer. “Go collect Fraq. I have a task for her.” 

They ran off, pushing each other all the way. 

“And what of me?” Lucifer asked, as he felt heat of the drug travel through his body, and the darkness start to grip him. 

“You’ll always be mine.” 

And then he slept. 

…

“This isn’t right. We can't let this happen."

The sound of the crowd surged. Lania, emaciated and already bloody wailed as Spire guards locked her wrists into the whipping post on the stage in the marketplace. 

"Lucifer, you know we can't stop this. This is justice. Dozens. She lured dozens of whelps to lethe over the sprog cycles. The one thing Lilim agree on is not harming our young. They defied that and now they'll pay. Starting with her."

"She deserves everything she gets for what she did to Wen," Fraq's voice twisted with hatred. 

Lucifer swallowed. He had seen Wen. The little whelp understood a few words. With patience and supervision he could manage tasks such as turning the spit over the fire in the nest cooking area. Wen had smiled when he saw Fraq, and cried when she left him. 

A meaty thud reached Lucifer's ears accompanied by a sharp cry. Lania bled from a wound on her forehead. Stones flew thick and fast, thuds and cracks and cries until she hung limp and bloody, stones piling up at her feet and climbing up her legs long after she was dead. 

Lucifer turned away, forcing his way through the crowd. Lania was only the first. He understood. This was a harsh world, survival, difficult and unlikely, and crimes against the young threatened the survival of the species. 

Next in line, Rillam’s voice cut through the crowd, begging for her life. 

….

Lucifer stood on the wall, wind buffeting his wings. The sensation of air rushing between his feathers conjured memories of flying. In his mind’s eye, he saw starlight. His skin tingled with the ghost of hot sunshine on his bare skin. 

Lucifer brought his wings into full extension and stepped up to the very edge. The tension coming off Maze was palpable. 

“I’m not going down there to save you when you land on your ass.” 

Yes she would. But she wasn’t going to need to. 

A deep breath. He drew in the divinity, gathering it. The more he brought forth, the greater the pull he felt from the world around him, but with practice he knew it was a power that could eventually be harnessed. He snapped his wings down, testing his strength. He leaned forward, wings out, this was it. 

One more step forward, the wind rushed through his feathers. Down. Down. He harnessed the air around him, glided, and then snapped his wings down, the flight was his. 

With Maze by his side, anything was possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately, the next story in the series (currently 104,000 words) is still being edited, so there will be a gap in posting. I promise a road trip through hell for a certain demon and recovering drug addict angel duo, backstory on hell and the rebellion, gardening and dragons, the return of an old character, and a new sinister villain, so stay tuned!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete. We will post regularly.  
> Comments make us very happy. Motivation is everything.   
> If you are reading, please take a moment and leave us a brief line of encouragement.


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